


Carp(e) Diem

by Shadowling



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU, Adventure, M/M, mermaid au, not just a rewriting of the little mermaid, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-26 02:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 48,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/960256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowling/pseuds/Shadowling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After waiting years to ascend to the surface for his first kill, Killua finds the experience isn't exactly what he thought, and suddenly the idea of being the heir to his family isn't all that welcome. Seeking a little fun, he manages to become human, only to be swept up in the lives of a disgruntled doctor, an angry prince, and a...well, he isn't exactly sure what to make of Gon.</p><p>As his break turns into a full blown adventure, Killua has to decide. Will he return to being a Zoldyck or risk his life to stay with his new companions?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based very, _very_ loosely on the original Hans Christian Anderson story and will be diverging into its own story.

Deep in the unexplored ocean (though not as deep as you'd think), miles from any dry land, sits a magnificent castle. It has a menacing air, a presence so strong it manages to pollute the air above with a chill on the hottest summer day, prompting even the most faithless sailors to whisper prayers under their breath when they pass. None of them can never fully understanding the cause of their sudden dread— Unexpected homesickness? Ghosts of the deceased reaching out to them from the depths? A premonition of death?— but the number of nonsense explanations uttered on a single ship could fill the sea.

If by some miracle a human did manage to find out the truth no one would ever believe their story. The grand arches, the iridescent color, the shimmering pearl bits embedded in the walls, the twisting fish and coral skeletons melded into hallways and vast rooms…the castle's very existence seems impossible in even the most extra-ordinary conditions, but it stood, a fluke of nature shining faintly in the dregs of sunlight that manage to travel deep enough into the ocean.

It'd be beautiful if not for the sense of danger that tints every corner. Even the currents drifting through the halls seem ominous in the dim light, and the absence of fish— or any other outside life for that matter— makes the large building seem suffocating in size. Today, though, today it seems a little brighter, and every one of its eight occupants can feel it down to the tips of their tails.

It's here. _Finally_ Killua's birthday, his coming of age, has arrived. Today marks the hundredth and ninety-second full moon since his birth, and he can now ascend to the surface to eat his first human.

More importantly, he can finally _see_ the humans for himself. No more fake stories from Milluki, no more cautionary tales from Grandpa Zeno, and no more disgusted observations from Illumi. Killua can see the truth now.

Alluka and Kalluto are jealous of course, but their brother doesn't extend much sympathy. Killua'd been in the same boat all his life, sulking in the garden every time Milluki or Illumi left since he was small, but today is _his_ turn. He did his waiting, and Alluka only has a year left anyway. They'd survive.

(Killua does say a quick goodbye to his younger siblings, secretly promising to sneak Alluka finger or two before setting out to meet his grandfather at the edge of the castle garden.)

He keeps low to the ground as he swims, letting the plants tickle against his tail. The familiar feeling of seaweed is reassuring against his scales and skin, almost like they're brushing his nerves away, but once in a while a bone will jab uncomfortably against his stomach. It's those damn sirens, always tossing their filth in his garden. _They_ waste their food, unlike the Zoldycks, and his father doesn't tolerate their presence anywhere near the castle. The sirens swear they're cousins, the same species, but Killua's dad loves pointing out it takes much more than a similar hunting style to be related.

"Their very _structure_ is different," Silva'd argue to his son, a savage kind of joy taking over, "and besides using the same lure of an upper human half, there isn't really that much of a similarity between our hunting. You see, a siren will drag you down and let the water do their dirty work. _We_ rip you limb from limb and devour in a matter of seconds."

Killua rises to meet his grandfather, and together they silently pass the edge of the garden, the fluorescent plants seeming to wave goodbye in the sea current. The castle's soon a blurry shadow in the distance, a distorted shape of home, but Killua can't really bring himself to care. He thinks it looks prettier far away.

Even going at their steady pace, they don't break the surface till late evening. Killua tries not to show how disappointed he is at the strange clash of yellow and orange in the sky instead of the bright blue he expected to greet him, or how uncomfortable he finds it having to consciously breath out of his mouth rather than his gills. And how he's supposed to stay above water while his tail drags him down is beyond him. He's probably inhaled half the sea in his last five breaths alone.

"There." Grandpa Zeno points west towards a looming shadow, showing no signs of the discomfort Killua feels. His powerful tail effortlessly supports him, almost lazy in the way it flicks back and forth. "Head for the ship and wait for the storm. Get your prey— just _one_ for your first time— and leave. Don't linger. Don't take seconds. Leave."

Killua frowns ( _I've been waiting for this since I was three and I only get_ one _!?_ ) but nods. It'd do him no good to argue. His grandpa would sooner drag him back home than hear him out, favorite grandkid or not, and despite his discomfort, he's in no hurry to leave the lukewarm sunlight left over from the daytime. Besides, there's no way he's endangering this opportunity.

"Most of the sailors will be drunk by then, so it shouldn't be too hard to go unnoticed." His grandpa's eyes flicker to Killua's white hair glowing even in the fading sun. "Just remember silence is key. No one but your prey is to see you. If stories of the Zoldycks start back up again…"

Zeno's warning glance makes Killua shiver despite himself.

They submerge, Zeno offering his grandson a supporting tap on the tail, before they set off on their separate paths.

The first thing Killua notices once he resurfaces near the boat is the stench of alcohol and smoke. It makes him crinkle his nose in disgust and nearly dive back under the water to escape, but he forces himself to wait it out until he adjusts. Laughter drifts across the sea, some of the more obnoxious chuckles grating on his nerves, and there's a strange, melodic screech that's… actually quite pleasant.

 _What_ is _that?_ he wonders, approaching the side cautiously. Killua looks up, slightly intimidated by the sheer size of the human's creation. How many of them did it take to make this? How long did it take to seal the wooden boards together, enable such a large, bulky thing to hold so much and still float on water? How did they even come up with such a monstrosity?

Tentatively he reaches out to touch the wood, running his palm over it and marveling at the strange patches of roughness under his palm. He jumps when the melodic screech soars in volume, swelling into dizzying sound that makes the Zoldyck feel impractically giddy. What are the humans doing to produce that amazing sound?

Killua makes a snap decision, unsheathing his claws and digging them deep into the ship's side before he can talk himself out of it.

Zoldycks are strong creatures, but Killua finds it's incredibly difficult to climb up the side of the ship, especially since he's lacking legs. His tail hangs uselessly in the air, the wood scraping his scales, and his claws keep getting caught in between splitters. Then there's the _smell_. Ugh! The last half of his journey is done with as little breathing as he can manage, which only slows him down all the more by the time he's finally able to drag himself the final few inches to peer onto the deck night is setting in, and he's beginning to wonder if seeing these humans is worth all the trouble.

Then he takes a breath, and it's all he can do to keep his grip on the ship.

Human stench stabs strongly at his tongue. Piss, disease, alcohol, tobacco…it all rolls over him at once in a wave, gagging him with its potent presence. And he's supposed to _eat_ this? Rotting fish smell better than this out right filth!

But then the second wave drifts over, covering the first unforgiving scent and carrying something Killua has never smelled before. Rich soil and fresh saplings and springing flowers, undeniable life that flows so smoothly compared different to the ocean's chaotic motion of currents and undertows. Even the stuff he's managed to swipe from long sunken ships had never smelled this good, this _alive_.

It's a party in full swing. Sailors are laughing as they swap stories, turning blue in the face from an intense enjoyment Killua didn't think was possible. Some are dancing to the musical screech coming from an oddly-shaped wooden box with strings, clapping in unison as they stomp gracefully around each other in organized steps. Others stumble over their feet as they down another bottle, barely managing to stay on board.

"Happy birthday, Prince Kurapika!" Large booms echo as colors suddenly burst in the sky, and cheers rise up from the boat, prompting more explosions that take Killua's breath away.

Envy hits him hard in the chest, nearly doubling him over with its intensity. _How?!_ How can they be this…amazing? He wants to join them, to laugh like that. Wants to experience the things leaving such an amazing mark on them. He wants to learn that dance. Hell, he wants to be able to dance.

Killua's tail smacks the side of the boat in a bitter reminder of what exactly is separating him and the humans.

 _Focus,_ he scolds, sense flooding back to him. The scent of rain is strong now. His first meal will be starting soon. A distracted Zoldyck is a noticed Zoldyck, and Killua doesn't fancy finding out what his dad would do if the humans started talking again.

Killua follows everyone's eyes to a small group of three people at the center of the ship surrounded by clapping sailors. The one in the middle looks flustered, smiling uneasily while his two companions laugh and jostle him good-naturedly. His hair reminds Killua of the gold he's found in sunken ships, and his clothes are the most well-made on the ship.

_Must be the prince._

One of his companions, some old guy in a suit, thumps the prince on the back, nearly knocking the poor man off his feet as he chuckles madly at a bad joke. His checks are flushed red with intoxication, and he has a dopey look on his face that Killua decides may just be his normal expression.

The drunkard leans heavily onto a much shorter boy with insanely spiky hair, almost collapsing when he tries to take a step. The boy— Killua thinks his name is Gon if the old man's to be believed in his state— shares a smile with the prince as he helps hold the old man steady, holding the bulk of him effortlessly.

A gust of wind sweeps over the party, jerking the sails. Killua can easily taste the storm nearly a mile away, but the sailors barely bat an eye.

He sees Gon tense as the gust hits him and look out to sea for a minute, body rigid. _Can he tell the storm is coming?_ Killua studies Gon as he carefully sniffs the air, his eyes flashing in understanding. _It looks like he's my age. That's nowhere near experienced enough for a human to be able to read the sea so easily._

Gon turns to the prince and says something Killua can't hear, but Kurapika's face slips out of its small grin and into a concerned frown. They snap into immediate action, the prince setting off with the boy close at his heels, signaling for the sailors around him to take down the sails.

The first crack of thunder comes before half the sailors are even close to doing something remotely productive. Killua lets himself fall off the side of the boat, grinning as he's surrounded once more by swirling water. He loves when the sea gets temperamental; it's such a nice change.

The first body, some skinny guy with a bandana, hits the water almost immediately, but Killua lets that sailor drown. He just doesn't look _appetizing_ like some of the other, more filled-out humans. Killua wants his first meal to be a good one.

(And if he felt a small stab of sadness when that unbelievable scent was washed away by the ocean…well, that's his business.)

Killua settles for a fat guy with a squashed nose. It fills him up _and_ he manages to save a finger for Alluka. Taste though…not as good as he heard it'd be. And the blood... this is kind of annoying. Troublesome. In fact, the whole experience is uncomfortable. It isn't like the fish he ate at home. This food fights even when it should by all accounts be dead, and it's _really_ disconcerting to be eating body parts he also has. Is this what his diet will be for the rest of his life? He can't stop his lip from curling in disgust or the sickening lurch in his stomach the next time he sees a human.

And to think he'd thought he'd want seconds.

Between the winds and the sea, the ship hadn't had much of a fighting chance even if half her crew wasn't intoxicated. It doesn't take long for the mast to splinter under the strain, but the rocks are what actually finish it off. Killua resurfaces in time to watch it crack in half and slowly sink into the sea with a pitiful groan. A small, desperate lifeboat is managing to stay upright nearby, but he doesn't put much stalk in its survival with this kind of weather.

He turns to head back, vaguely confused at the hollow hunger in his gut (how has such a huge human not fill him?!), when the sudden movement of what he thought was just another dead sailor buoying to the surface nearly kicks him in the face.

It's that human from before, that spiky-haired boy, swimming powerfully towards the surface.

Killua watches idly from below as Gon breaks the surface—maybe even manages to get in one gulp of air, it's hard to say from Killua's angle—but the waves quickly shove him down. The conflicting currents smash into his body, sending him tumbling every which way and most likely fatally disorienting him. By the time the boy regains a small sense of direction, he's been swept at least ten yards away from his original spot.

But the amazing thing is Gon keeps going. Again and again, he fights towards the surface, always managing to swim up not matter how badly he's turned around, only to be slammed back down into the water. Killua just stares, impressed and a little amused, as the ocean easily squashes the human's struggle. He can see him loosing steam; it's only a matter of time until his arms give out.

Killua will let Gon drown, and he will lose little sleep over the matter.

On his next desperate struggle to get above water, twisting madly in his search for the surface, Gon sees Killua's outline hovering on the lower edge of his blurred vision. A vague, human shape that could possibly be a corpse already swelling in the salt, but it doesn't matter. They could be alive. Dead or not, it could be one of his friends.

Changing his course, Gon dives down instead of up, taking Killua by surprise as he propels towards him. Curious, Killua lets the boy grab him around the waist and drag him up with him towards the surface.

It's kind of sad, really, watching the human struggle just for the sake of "saving" Killua. He's not even warm anymore, his body heat robbed by the water, and this will undoubtably be his last struggle.

Pity prompts Killua to leave (without the added weight the boy might have another chance), but when he moves even the slightest bit to get out of Gon's embrace, the boy squeezes tighter, and Killua can almost feel his muscles working overtime to handle the strain of two people.

_What is with this guy?_

Gon's strength gives out barely a foot from the surface, and the Zolyck can't help but offer a quick, pitiful swish of his tail to finish the journey. The human gasps obnoxiously in Killua's ear and tightens his hold around the Zoldyck, and it takes Killua by surprise how tightly he clings, nearly sending them back underwater. Gon shakes the water from his face and looks at Killua with squinted brown eyes, practically beaming as one of the worst storms of the decade rages around them. It's open and warm and everything that isn't the sea.

"Glad you're o—"

A wave wrenches Gon's weak grip from Killua's body and would have shoved the weary boy to his grave if Killua hadn't grabbed him with a startled shout. And of course it's just his luck a piece of broken wood from the ship manages to smack Gon in the face (and also nick Killua in the back of the head), successfully knocking him out and leaving the Zoldyck with a useless body he's in no mood to eat. One fat guy is enough for him, thank you. For a lifetime.

(His stomach still hurts.)

So he brings Gonna to shore. Killua's not really sure what else to do. Letting him go to drown just seems…wrong. Yeah, yeah, sailors are dying around him, but this is _different_! Killua never made a move to help _them_. Now that he's saved Gon, letting him die is cruel, a deliberate action made out of an indifference that reminds Killua of his eldest brother, and Killua _refuses_ to be like him even remotely like him, a monster that slaughters a whole settlement near the sea just for the fun of it.

It's slow, painful work (Killua's lungs are on fire from staying above water so long) and he nearly drowns Gon many times in the process, but they manage to get to the closest landmass by dawn. Killua goes as far inland as he can with his tail, stopping when the sand grates uncomfortably against his stomach and dropping the human unceremoniously onto the ground.

Killua makes sure Gon's mouth and nose are clear of the water before he flops down himself, panting. His tail is sorer than it's ever been, but he feels satisfied somehow. The hollow hunger in his gut's somehow sated for now ( at least ignorable), and all he wants to do is fall asleep in the dawning sun.

Gon yawns in his sleep, revealing a missing tooth on the left next to his front teeth. There's a dark bruise taking up most of his right check from the board, but the boy looks peaceful. He'll wake up within the hour, probably take a moment to appreciate his luck (Killua knows the boy'll never suspect what actually happened, the closest conclusion he'll come to some kind of gold-hearted siren) and head home.

Killua pictures Gon's house to be somewhere deep in greenery farther on shore, tucked away from other houses and surrounded by the scent life that still clings to his waterlogged body. He probably doesn't live alone, so his mom and dad'll be waiting for him. Maybe a grandma or grandpa too? A lover? The whole house'll definitely be warm, not like the cold water that occupies Killua's own residence, and the plants that surround his house are probably bright and open, not dull and brittle like the Zoldyck's garden. Maybe there'll be a fresh meal, one that doesn't fight back when he bites into it.

And there's that pang of envy again.

 _What do I have to be jealous of?_ he fumes. I'm _not this fragile!_ My _tooth would grow back._ My _skin wouldn't be this scratched up._ I _wouldn't need rescuing._

And yet the little green monster in his chest won't shut up.

A loud groan freezes Killua, and his blood practically runs cold when he sees the boy start to shift. _Gon's waking up!?_

The Zoldyck leaps into action, jerking up and shoving his hands deep into the sand to propel himself out towards the water, but he's too far in. His tail barely budges in the heavy, wet sand. There's no way he can get in the water fast enough to avoid being seen.

So Killua stops short and tenses his arms, watching carefully as the human's eyes slowly flutter open. He watches in panicked amusement as confusion overtakes Gon's young features, soon replaced with pain as he sits up and looks around, finally catching sight of the Zoldyck sitting next to him.

"Hey—"

Killua's hand shoots out lightening fast, hitting the back of Gon's neck and knocking him out. At least he hopes he knocked him out. The sweet spot for killing and the sweet spot for knocking a human unconscious always get mixed up in his head.

Oh! No, he hears breathing. It's all good.

The Zoldyck slides carefully back into the sea as fast as he can, mindful of the sand grating his stomach and the laughter he catches in the distance. The moment he's far enough in the water he submerges, retreating behind the rocks close by to watch a group strolling down the beach gradually revealed in the morning mist.

The only woman in the group, a sickly pale thing with crazy black hair, spots Gon first. "Hey! Are you okay?"

She takes in the bruising and cuts and missing tooth before scooping the boy up, running surrounded by her confused friends to wherever human's go to heal. Milluki said they had some kind of special building that can hold thousands of them. Killua figured the special building had to be at least as big as his house to hold all the family and friends that would surround the wounded human. He heard humans are close like that.

_Does he…Gon have a lot of friends?_

Killua lingers for a few moments before descending. Somehow the water that rushes over his gills doesn't bring the relief he wants.


	2. Chapter 2

Killua figures out fairly quickly he's a complete failure of a Zoldyck.

After watching his two brothers go through it and all the embarrassing "you're maturing" speeches from his family, Killua had thought he was reasonably prepared and knew what he was up against. Frenzies, cravings for humans, lack of control, mood swings…the whole nine knots, but he hasn't felt any different. If anything, he's felt more empty. He can barely summon the desire to float around the garden and rarely eats anymore. He hoped in the first difficult weeks the taste would eventually grow on him like some kind of parasite, take care of the disgust that rises in his gut with every meal, but now, a month later, he prays he's a late bloomer. There's no way he can on the edge of starvation for the rest of his life.

Even with Alluka managing to sneak him food more often than not (a few scraps of fish or what have you), Killua hasn't felt full since coming of age. Sometimes he has to choke down a human just to stay alive, barley able to even swim into active waters with how weak hunger's made him.

The worst part is he doesn't know what his problem is, so he can't even begin to try and fix it. Humans smell delicious, sure, and his mouth still waters at the idea of tearing into something with that kind of scent. But when it comes to actually eating them, every bite is like wilted seaweed in his mouth no matter the kind of the human.

Grandpa Zeno's notably worried, which sets the whole family on edge. Killua's actually been asked— albeit in a roundabout way— if he's feeling okay, but his grandfather seems to assume it'll pass. At least he decides it's nothing severe enough to deter training Killua from taking over the family.

The new, more academic training brings surprising relief. Finally, something he can do right. Killua's proud to say he knows all of the human alphabet and how to spell his name after only a couple lessons and tries not to think about how he's supposed to eventually use this knowledge to "help his family." He's even been able to sound out a few words he's seen at the beach, names of stores and such that he can see from his perch out in the ocean. Sometimes a small group of humans that smell really weird will march up and down the beach, shouting about "cleaning water" and "saving fish" or whatever, but Killua can figure out most of the words on their signs by sounding them out.

He thinks it's kinda funny that one of them gets this _really_ shrill voice when another humans challenge her just like his mom does when she goes on one of her tirades. Same lecturing tone and _everything_!

...

Maybe that's it. Maybe if Killua stopped going to see the humans, stopped seeing them as equals, he wouldn't feel so nauseated every time he had to eat one, but it's…he can't do that! Not now. Not after spending the last two months spending his days listening to the waves crash and the people live.

Say what you want about their stupidity and violence, but humans are fascinating to watch. Like why do they go swimming when they know (almost) all the dangers that would love to eat them? Why are they so instant on having colorful cloth cover their bodies at all times? Why does it take them so long to eat one thing? Why do some of them wake up so early to see the sunrise if it'll make them cranky later? Why is jumping oddly around a campfire in a "dance" so much fun? Why do they laugh so loudly when "it" catches them? Why do they always seem so damn happy?

(Why does Gon come back every day just to dangle a hook in the water when fish rarely wander in this far? Why wasn't he there the first eight days Killua started visiting the beach? Why does that dark haired girl from before always bring him food? Why does he wear the same bright green shorts every day? Why is his hair always so pointy? Why does he always look so happy even when he never gets a bite?)

Killua spent his whole life waiting to ascend to the surface. Now that he's done it, he has no idea what to do with himself. The very act of eating is becoming a chore, and with the duty of ruling over his family for the rest of his life stretched out inevitably before him, going to the beach feels more and more like a necessity. It's the only escape he has left.

And yet the more he sees the human's daily life, the deeper jealousy claws his chest.

And when the questions are overwhelming him it's not like he can just swim up and ask them why "dancing" is different from "spinning" but _Neptune_ would he like to know. If there were anyway he could just _talk_ to one of them for a minute or two, sate at least some of his curiosity, he'd take it in a heartbeat.

Apparently his growing desperation on top of his failing health is enough to worry even Illumi, who shows his worry through his standard lecture—humans are food, Zoldycks evolutionary miracle, blah, kings of the sea, blah, blah— and for once in Killua's life, it actually helps.

See, his brother was heading out to see the sea witch, Hisoka, when he stopped Killua.

Sea witches are an immensely powerful creatures, ones even the Zoldycks wouldn't like to get on the bad side of. They can do the impossible— _be_ the impossible— and sure, Killua can't approach the humans as a Zoldyck. But as a human himself? No one would be the wiser. His family wouldn't suspect a thing if he was gone for just a day or two. A few days to eat something besides leftover fish, like that chocolate thing he's heard of, or maybe some potatoes. Enough time to get some answers. Maybe he could talk to Gon.

Of course there's no way in hell he's going to Hisoka. He'd tell Illumi exactly where Killua went after reaping the benefits of a cockeyed deal.

The sea witch down south, however…

 

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

"Hey~? …Hello~?"

Killua's voice tumbles uselessly into the black abyss before him, not even bothering to echo back before it dies.

"You there~? I wanna make a deal~!"

Nothing.

He sighs, drawing away from the vastness before him. The witch is supposed to live in this trench, but he's beginning to doubt his information. How can she stand it? Just looking into it makes Killua feel tiny and frail. If she thinks he's going down there without some kind of light, she has another thing coming.

"Hey! Old ha—"

Killua's sharply cut off as he's jerked down into sudden blindness.

Gasping in pain, he slaps his tail as hard as he can against the invisible _thing_ crushing his waist in the darkness. A jolt of panic shocks through his body when it holds tighter, constricting in a way that makes the long-forgotten feeling of fear hammer in his chest. Zoldyck tails are one of the strongest things in the sea. If this witch—at least he hopes it's the witch—can keep her grip on him…

Hard rocks cut into Killua's back as he's abruptly slammed onto the sea floor, and the impact rattles in his head long after the grip on him loosens. Whatever it is that grabbed him lingers over him in a silent threat before retreating entirely out of sight, which only makes his situation worse. At least he could keep track of it when was pulling him. Now it could be anywhere.

The bottom of the trench is odd. A wide circle of artificial light comes from a large crater in the center and encompasses the area around Killua. He's surrounded by strange cages and bottles of varying size and color the drift lazily around him, a few human nick-knacks in the mix as well. It's nothing impressive, but the water around Killua feels heavy with power and hard to breath, and the whole layout unsettles something in the Zoldyck. The trench feels like it's for show, somewhere to be occupied rather than lived in; an elaborate stage crafted just right to feel wrong.

A small girl lingers right on the edge of the ring of light, her hair pulled into tight pigtails by vibrant ribbons that twist like writhing snakes in the water. She must be the sea witch, Biscuit Krueger.

Killua rights himself and sizes her up. She looks so… _young_. No older than Alluka at least. Her appearance deceptively normal too. She could be any old mermaid from the seas a little farther west of here with her short stature and bright tail, but witches typically aren't mermaids. In fact they tend to be half-breeds or mutants of some kind. Is that why she's hiding down in a hole?

"What was that you called me?" Her sickly sweet tone makes Killua cringe with its razor sharp edge just as much as the silhouette of a tentacle shifting threateningly behind her.

"N-nothing!"

So not a mermaid then.

The cute face that beams back at him does little to reassure him. "That's what I thought." Biscuit takes her place in front of her fissure, her face framed menacingly by the light. Killua doesn't doubt she did that on purpose. Hisoka can be pretty melodramatic too. Must just be a witch thing. "So how can I help you? You want vengeance? Beauty?" Her eyes twinkle as she grabs a particularly foreboding bottle drifting by. "Love?"

Killua shifts back as far as he can from the sea witch while remaining inside the light. "Um…none of the above? I need legs." He flicks his tail nervously before clarifying, "I want to be human. For a day or two! Not long."

Much to his surprise, Biscuit just clicks her tongue in annoyance as she turns to her bottles. Killua kinda feels a little insulted at her sudden lack of interest. "Can you afford this kind of magic, kid? This is powerful stuff in its own right, but a spell that works on a Zoldyck, let alone one that turns them _human_? That's in a level all its own." Biscuit peers back at him. "Some say it doesn't exist." She shrugs. "I say some just don't have the intelligence to imagine such power."

"So you can do it?"

Biscuit chuckles at Killua's hopeful expression. "I told you that's not the problem. The issue is the expense— _is that what I think it is?!_ "

There, sitting in Killua's palm, is one of the most valuable gems in the world,  _Blue Planet._ It's been unseen for more than a decade, but there it is, shinning clearly even at the bottom of the trench in all its legendary glory. The witch drools as she watches in the inside of the gem swirl like an invisible whirlpool, forever imitating like the clouds in the atmosphere just like the stories say. Biscuit's hand unconsciously drifts forward.

Killua closes his hand, hiding it from view. "So you can do it?"

Biscuit snaps out of it and darts towards her bottles, grabbing five in her hand and dumping them into her fissure to turn the light an icy blue. "It'll be done in just a minute!" She tosses ingredients into her concoction haphazardly, barely pausing to check what she's grabbing before pouring it in. Sometimes she even throws in the whole bottle. 

Killua watches the trench's mixture shift into dizzying colors with a sense of growing dread. When it finally settles into a muddy brown that reminds him of ocean scum, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly is this potion gonna do to me?"

Biscuit barely spares him a glance, uncorking a purple bottle to sniff its contents. She makes a disgusted face before tossing it in. "Well, you do know there are some major differences between your body and a human's despite how similar you look, right? This potion's going to rearrange your organs and grow you all the parts of a human you need."

_Oh, is that all._

"You're going to be sore for a long while after the initial kick, and there may be a side-effect or two since you're so young," Biscuit shrugs nonchalantly, "but I'm not some bottom-feeding barnacle. All terms and conditions will be explained to you, and I'll do my best to get you to land without dying once you drink the potion."

"I can't just take it near shore and drink it?"

Killua hardly thinks his question deserves such a strong snort of amusement from the sea witch. "Are you kidding? Kid, how many creatures do you think would love to rip you apart once you're completely defenseless? And you _will_ be defenseless. No more indestructible skin. No more sharp teeth or claws. No more breathing underwater for more than a minute. Hell, you won't even be able to swim because of one of the side-effects. _Defenseless_." She stops long enough to raise as eyebrow. "Plus I assume you want to be secretive about this. I don't think your old man would be happy to hear about our little deal."

_Well…yeah._

"On top of that, you're going to be really incapacitated. Unless you find a way to covertly get on the beach and drink this without drawing the attention of any humans, you're going to drown if you take this alone because there's no way you'll be able to swim to shore when the convulsions start. I can take you if you drink it here, though."

Biscuit seems to take his lack of visible fear as a challenge because she gets progressively more dramatic as she brews, even going as far as to throw a whole, star-shaped bottle into the fissure and stand in the resulting discharge. Killua has to hold back a snicker when she chokes in the orange swirls.

There's only a few more doses of this and that once Biscuit recovers, successfully finishing the potion and killing the small good mood that had settled in Killua. She easily captures the concoction into a triangular container and comes to stand in front of the Zoldyck. Killua's stomach turns. It's still the color mud.

"Okay! Quick, simplified explanation." Biscuit taps her jaw. "You'll be growing various parts in a very, _very_ painful manner. This isn't a cakewalk. For example, you need to grow vocal chords as well as legs. It hurts at first, you're sore for a day or two, and you're good. You'll have one set of teeth as a human, so don't be surprised when that other, sharp Zoldyck set you have falls out." Biscuit ticks each subject off on her fingers as she talks. "You're gills will be smoothed over by skin, your skin will become squishy, and taste for blood will be suppressed…mostly. Don't try eat anyone, got it?"

Biscuit sighs and shakes the bottle. "I don't know why, but that and smelling things just never go as planned. The feet got some kinks in them too." She nods thoughtfully. "You know, not a lot of fish want to be human, especially after learning how painful it is to take the potion, but the ones who come back tell me every step is like walking on swords. You can trade something to dull the pain…perhaps your voice?"

Killua barely manages to hold in a snort at the expectant witch. Is she kidding? How is he supposed to find out stuff if he can't even ask questions? And what are a couple of feet cramps next to the things he's already endured? Biscuit's seriously underestimated how far the Zoldycks are willing to toughen up to keep from going extinct. They're born pretty indestructible to begin with, but there are plenty of other things they have to build immunity to from day one. Can't have a curious young one die because they brushed up against the wrong type of fish while playing.

"I'm good, thanks." He accepts the bottle with mixed feelings and tries not to flinch at how hot it feels in his hand. It's impossible to tell whether it's fear or excitement jittering in his stomach now. "So… how much do I take? When does this wear off?

"It doesn't."

Killua blinks. "Then how am I supposed to get back?" he asks flatly, 

Biscuit clasps her hands together. "Well that's just it. My potions have a bit of a built-in clause. There'd be no way to get this kind of power without a deal, you know? So, you got a year-- maybe a year in a half for you since you're not full-grown-- until it wears off. If, by the end of your time, you have not returned, you will become sea foam. And die. Sorry 'bout that." She really doesn't look that sorry. "That gives you two options: either become fully human, or drink another potion I'll have to whip up for you."

Killua regards her suspiciously. "What kind of potion? Why don't you give it to me now?"

Biscuit waves her hand, brushing his concern aside easy. "The price is different for everyone. The next potion will have to compete with your attachment to the surface and its humans. Better to hurry back, understand? Don't get too attached to some prince like my last customer.

"Now," Biscuit grabs a glowing stone slab and a shattered piece of a shell floating by, "this claims that you fully understand all risks and I am in no way responsible for your fate up on the shore. If you die before you reach the surface, this contract will insure I'll die as well. Customer confidentiality, blah blah, I hold the right to check up on you at any time boring, boring…I will appear when you call and wish to return so I can assess the damage, yatta…got it?"

The bottle is hot in Killua's hand. Hesitation sits heavy in his chest and only grows as the seconds pass. If he doesn't do this now, he's going to back out. He steels himself and acts.

In one fluid motion Killua signs his name, drops the gem into Biscuit's stunned hand, and downs the potion in one gulp, holding back his gag reflex as it slides down his throat.

"Don't drink it yet! I'm not ready!"

_Well too late now._

His gut lurches in what he assumes is nausea from the nasty taste left in his mouth, but then it rolls again. And again. Pain builds until he can't even hold the empty bottle in his numb fingers.

Biscuit curses, drops the gem. She rushes to his side and yells…something. Killua can't hear passed the surging in his ears, can barely feel her wrapping him in an awkward hug, can't even see the angry hysteria in her eyes.

Dimly he's aware of the light growing brighter, the pressure wrapped firmly around his middle, the sea rushing passed his body, but they seem so insignificant. He's weak and shaking, barely a moment's rest before the next wave starts and ends and starts and ends and starts until it doesn't even stop anymore.

There's throbbing in his tail. His _tail_. It's not supposed to do that. Tails don't hurt.

Something glints in front of his eyes. One of his scales?

A knife stabs through Killua's neck leaving him gasping, water rushing in to his throat the wrong way, surging into his nose, and he gropes blindly at his neck to pull the knife out but he can't find _anything_. Not even the slits of his gills, and he can't figure out how to breath anymore, why won't his gills work, why is his tail so painful—

Panic slams into Killua, dulling the pain for the brief moment is takes him to process exactly what's happening, to understand he's _drowning_.

For a hysterical moment he thinks it's hilarious. A Zoldyck is drowning. The deadliest predator in the sea is drowning.

And then blind instinct kicks in. He starts thrashing, clawing at the pressure around his waist, fighting to swim what he hopes is up towards the surface, but he thinks they pull him down, farther into the sea to drown and he _knew_ he should of told Alluka where he was going.

Relief comes in cold air smacking his face and a deep, heaving breath that frankly hurts about as much as it helps. His head spins, light and empty and he thinks he sees stars, but there are no stars underwater.

Weakly he tries to move his tail, tries to figure out how much damage is done, but the wave of pain that blasts through his body is just too much.

Killua passes out.


	3. Chapter 3

Gon loves the sound of seagulls in the morning. As much as he likes the quiet that fishing so early in the morning gives him, there's something about being completely alone that sets him on edge. Crashing waves can offer a small illusion of company, but the tangible presence of actual life is reassuring. It's almost uplifting when faced with such a nice day. The sun is shining, the sky is just turning a beautiful light blue that promises a clear day, and the sea is surprisingly calm, so different from the chaos of a few weeks ago.

Zaban's locals said it was the worst storm to hit in the last five years. Only a fourth of the crew Gon set out with survived, and had the ship been any farther out to sea, any further from their destination, there's no doubt they all would be dead.

Of course the sailors would have been in a better position to respond had they been farther away. They thought they were home free, close enough to the goal to celebrate the end of a six month journey a bit early. They were over-confident in their understanding of the sea, and by the time Zaban was aware of their presence and managed to send a rescue team, more than half those who lived passed the initial sinking were dead from cold. More died in hospitals and clinics over the next week. That they even have twenty-five percent left is astounding.

Kurapika calls Gon's survival a miracle. Leorio claims freakish luck. Gon tries not to think about it. He might not remember much, but he knows there was someone out there with him, knows he had them in his arms, and knows they were alive. But Gon was found alone on the beach.

He doesn't like to think about it.

Gon walks as close to the surf as he can without wetting his boots. His fishing rod bumps comfortably against his shoulder, ready at a moment's notice. Debris from the ship is still drifting to shore, and people have been stepping on planks and broken bottles as often as they've stumbled across jewelry or gold. He makes it a point to pick up or fish out whatever garbage he spots on the way to and from his fishing spot.

At this point the majority of trash hovers out in what Gon likes to call the dead zone, the waves never quite manage to budge whatever wreckage gets stuck there. Most of his attention ends up out on the horizon, leaving him to trip over boards or step in glass on more than one occasion.

Though a body is a new one.

Gon narrowly manages to avoid trampling the boy, overbalances into the water, and gasps as the cold sea leaks through his shorts. He scrambles to the unconscious boy's side, quickly assessing state of the boy. He's skin and bones, definitely malnourished, and unconscious.

Possibly dead.

Gon rushes into action. He fumbles towards the stranger's neck, brushes aside the shocking white hair with nervous fingers to get a better read on his pulse, but the instant his hands make contact with skin, the stranger jerks in surprise. He coughs water out of his throat before sucking air greedily into his lungs, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

It seems to take the stranger a couple of moments to figure out exactly where he is, or maybe it simply takes him that long to summon the will to finally process the world around him, but the look of slowly dawning terror in his eyes when he sees Gon kneeling next to him is unexpected.

"Are you okay?" Gon blinks down at him, maintaining eye contact long enough to make the stranger fidget slightly and look away. "Hey, can you hear me? Do you understand me? What's your name?"

"…"

Gon leans forward to hear but backs away almost immediately under the boy's frustrated glare. It's obvious he's trying to talk—Gon can even make out a few short words he's mouthing—but an actual sound seems beyond his ability. Is it a side effect of dehydration? A cut? He doesn't see any damage to the boy's pale throat, but then most of his skin is covered by hair. There's not tell-tale blood on the sand either. Even so internal damage is a possibility. If that's the case he needs to get to a doctor _now_ , but Gon's not going to be able to get him anywhere if the boy's viewing him as an enemy. If he struggles, thinks will only get worse.

So first thing first…establish some trust and calm him down.

Gon keeps a respectful distance, but leans in closer, pointedly turning his ear towards the boy. "I can't hear you," he says, keeping anything out of his voice that could be considered remotely condescending. His tone sounds flat, bordering uncaring, but it seems to avoid upsetting the boy. "Can you tell me your name?"

"…K—"

Whatever other sound the stranger could have made disappears in the sudden shriek of pain that rips itself from his throat, the sheer volume of it surprising Gon. He watches in stunned horror as the boy curls onto his side and digs at his neck, mouth still open in a scream far after his short-lived voice has faded, tearing at it with claw-like nails that seemingly come out of nowhere.

Gon jumps to his feet at the sight of blood, ready to run for help, to take off down the beach in search of someone, _anyone_ , but it's early. Shops aren't even open yet in this part of town. Even if he shouts at the top of his lungs, by the time someone actually responds…

He bends over the boy and grabs his hands. He pulls them away from his neck with all this strength, but Gon miscalculates. The boy's light, dangerously so, and almost lands on his face as Gon accidentally hauls him to his feet. Nearly the instant his feet touch the ground, he collapses under his own weight, choking back another yell as Gon fights him keep upright. He weakly thrashes once, twice, head lolling.

Gon nearly topples over as the stranger passes out, barely managing to keep the other's head from crashing to the ground. Grunting, he folds his arm under the boy's legs and picks him up, cradling him against his chest as he sets down the beach. His house isn't too far. The boy's wounds are easily treatable with a common first aid kit. Gon doubts the boy would take kindly to waking up in a doctor's office, and he has Leorio near by if he needs him anyway. Besides, all the doctors in town have their hands full with injuries sailors. He can handle one hurt person for a little bit.

Now that Gon looks at him, the boy can't be more than fourteen, fifteen tops. Why is he so thin? Gon knows he's not from the ship, and there's no way he could survive at sea so long anyway. Is he one of the homeless from town? That could explain why he's naked. Some of the meaner kids have taken a liking to robbing the homeless, dumping them in some alley once they're done, but there's usually some sign of a struggle. Bruises, cuts, a shoe print or two branded onto the victims side…but this guy is _pristine_.

More importantly, he's pale. No one in Zaban is pale. The sun's too strong for even the most UV retardant resident to escape a light tan. This guy would have to stay inside all hours of the day to stay this colorless. Is that it? Did he break out of some kind of prison?

Gon glances down at the boy, noting the shallow breathing. _First things first, I need to get him help._

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

The stranger, who Gon has taken to calling K, manages to have a few brief moments of consciousness over the next couple days. Gon's able to get some fresh water down K's throat and dress him in loose shorts during his calmer moments of awareness, but he's still speechless. Food is a no-go too. The one time they attempted to feed him a sliced apple, K's gums started to bleed. Leorio put him on a strict soft-food diet, but even then K won't eat _anything_. Applesauce, tomato soup, chicken noodle… the few spoonfuls of oatmeal Gon fed the boy before got him a sour look and food spat on his floor.  It might be okay now, though, if he bothered to wake up.

"It's the weirdest thing," Leorio says as he packs his bag in preparation to leave. "The first day, his body was about as strong as a china doll. Now…" He throws his hands up, the deflated mattress sagging under the movement, but K doesn't stir. "He's not quite up to par with how strong a kid his age should be, but a little exercise and some food is all he'll need to be good as new. His teeth seem to be lagging though. Solid food should be an option in a few days. Next week at the latest. See ya tomorrow."

"Bye."

 _Another few days, huh?_ Gon sighs and gently lowers himself onto the old, rusted cot he'd managed to scrounge up while his houseguest takes the bed. It sinks dangerously underneath him, but it'll do.

That would be another problem once K woke up. Forget helping the boy get back on his feet. Having enough space and food for the two of them is going to stretch Gon's tiny budget to the max.

The shack Gon is staying in barely manages to hold the two of them as is. It was most likely suppose to be some kind of playhouse from Zaban's kids, but the town had apparently given up half way when the building became unstable. Gon gave it a simple fix-- a support beam or two inside to make sure the roof didn't cave in-- but it was definitely a short-term solution.

 _Not that I need a long-term one_ , Gon reminds himself. Kurapika, being the wealthy son of the Kurtas in the north, managed to contract a ship that will take the remaining sailors home in a few weeks. It'll take Gon home. Even if K manages to stay conscious for more than a handful of hours by the time three weeks are up, he'll never be able to take care of himself, and none of the townspeople know the boy.

Once the survivors clear out, inns will have rooms open, but Gon doesn't have much money left to help right now, let alone later. When storm season starts there's no way K'd be able to stay in the shack. Maybe K can find a job to pay for an inn? An apprenticeship? There must be some old master around town, but Gon has the sinking feeling K won't appeal to them. Forget his perfectly smooth hands: K's impossibly pale skin is a dead giveaway he's never worked a day in his life.

Perhaps K's actually a scholar of some kind? Books don't exactly cause scars. It won't do him no good in a small town like this. He'd have to travel alone to some big city, but it's something. 

Gon closes his eyes, relaxes his body. No use in thinking about it now. He'll just have to ask.

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

K wakes up the next day.

It's a gradual process. K's fully aware long before he actually opens his eyes--Gon notices the change in breathing right away but carefully goes about business as usual-- and there's a moment he seems to gather himself as he stares at the sunken ceiling. He sighs, running his hands over his face and through his freshly-cut hair, and takes a slow, bracing breath.

Then his head turns slowly to the side, freezing comically when he sees Gon.

Unlike the times before, Gon doesn't spring to action. He stays planted where he is and continues to clean his boots, silently counting down the minutes their staring contest lasts. How long until the other breaks the silence?

...Seven minutes. K's still awake and staring, face blank.

...Fifteen minutes. Gon's boots have been clean for three. He finally sees something start to work its way into the other's face: impatience.

"So, can you talk now?"

"…"

"I'll take that as a no?" Gon prompts.

K gives him what might be a growl, moving his head in an awkward "no." Gon assumes his frustration lies with his damaged body rather than Gon himself, but he knows K's none to happy being limited to the improv sign language Gon's been teaching in his bouts of consciousness.

"…"

"What? Hungry?"

K shakes his head.

"Thirsty?"

"…y…s…" His voice is dry and cracking, painfully broken. It's barely the whisper of a whisper, but it's still progress.

Gon grabs one of the few clean glasses he has and heads to the old sink Leorio managed to hook up to the well outside. The water isn't cold by any means, but it's clean enough.

K stubbornly refuses to let Gon help him drink. He gropes for the cup, nearly knocking it out of Gon's hands, and he fumbles with the smooth glass once Gon lets go. A strange look of awe takes over K's face, and he spends several minutes just running his hands over the glass, turning in over in his hands before he drinks it. By some miracle when he finally takes a starved gulp, most of the water is still in the cup and manages to make it into K's mouth.

When Gon holds his hand back out for the glass, K ignores him. He shifts under the threadbare blanket and takes a deliberate moment to gather himself before pushing himself up on his elbows, his face screwing up in concentration.

Gon shoves him down before K even manages to get his back off the mattress and gets a weak smack in the shoulder for his efforts. "What do you need? Do you want more?" Gon asks. "I'll get it."

K thrusts the cup towards him, agitated, but Gon doesn't take it personally.

They repeat the process five times until K can finally sit up without too much strain. His hands get steadier and steadier with each glass, and he begins to slow down and take sips rather than gulps. Some of the color comes back to his face too, the healthy flush encouraging.

Gon sets K's half-empty glass on the counter when he's finished (who knows how long the well outside will last) and relocates to his cot, grabbing a notebook and pencil he borrowed from Leorio. The doctor's daily checkup isn't due for awhile, so he figures they can relax for awhile. Palm already visited for the day, leaving dinner, so the next half hour'll be his first chance to find out what he can about the boy before Leorio tries to demand answers out of him.

It's odd to see such an animalistic look twisting K's face, the weary distrust. The boy's sleep hadn't been anything close to peaceful, but at least he'd resembled a human being. Now he reminds Gon of a foxbear he once found in a trap as a kid, biting its own arm off out of pure desperation for escape.

The best way to have an animal warm up to you is to gain its trust and show it you mean no harm.

Gon holds out the notebook and pencil to K, feeling hopeful when he doesn't look too confused. "Can you write?"

Hesitantly K takes the notebook. Holding the pencil awkwardly pinched between two fingers, he carefully spells out a shaky "yes." Gon watches as his guest continues, K's eyebrows furrowing in concentration. He mouths words to himself, each separate sound taking multiple chocked tries until he decides on a letter. It takes at least five minutes for him to complete his barely legible sentence, and he almost shoves the notebook back at Gon, anger sapping away any sense of accomplishment he might have felt at his success.

grandpa zeno tat me

_…His grandpa taught him? He's definitely not from this country then. Can't be a scholar either. Our country's language is one of the most commonly used._

"Can you tell me your name? Where you're from? Anything?" Gon tries not to sound too eager as he relocates to the bed, careful to keep space between them. At the rate K's writing, Leorio will be here before they know it, and Gon can already see the fatigue settling in. A few base facts will make getting to know him much easier.

Much to his surprise, he gets an answer to his first question quickly. K looks proud of himself when he holds up the notebook, like a child showing off a good test to a parent.

killua

"Ki- _llu_ -a?" K makes a face and shakes his head. "Ki-ll-u-a?"

"…Killua—" K forces out, succumbing to painful hacking coughs.

Gon winces in sympathy, cautiously patting Killua's back. He's not pushed away.

By the time Leorio arrives for the daily check-up, Gon's expanded Killua's written vocabulary from about ten words to twenty, including Gon's name, the basic emotions and questions, and the word "pain." Killua's a fast learner, already able to combine some of the words to make choppy sentences, but his frustration at his limited communication skills has the pencil tip frequently snapping.

"Le-or-e-o," Gon says as the doctor comes in, enunciating his friend's name with enough exaggeration to get a snort of laughter for his efforts. Killua's head snaps around, the distrust Gon had finally gotten rid of returning in an instant, relaxed posture snapping into a hard line of tension. 

_Maybe he's a soldier of some kind?_

The check-up is quick. The two play off each other well, Leorio quickly catching on to his patient's boundaries and Killua struggling too much in response. Anything involving cold metal is avoided and Leorio has to walk around the bed in circles rather fight to make Killua turn around, but Killua lets the doctor poke around without a fight and endure the bed's constant lurches under Leorio's weight. It's a stubborn game of ring around the rosy while Gon looks on.

Leorio jots few quick notes in his journal, then snaps it closed with a grin. "All right! Let's see how your feet are doing."

Killua shakes his head and shoves the doctor away from his body. Gon can already see the resolute set of his jaw and his squared shoulders, the gesture familiar enough by now to make him want to laugh at the losing battle unfolding before him, Leorio's boiling emotions exploding into his characteristic rage.

If Leorio calmed maybe a compromise could've been met in less than five minutes, but Killua was already under his skin, and the doctor's heightened emotions are be as much a disability as a gift in his line of work. The farthest he gets today is a brief glimpse of Killua's feet to show that, no, they are still just as smooth and unblemished as the rest of him and Leorio is not allowed to poke at his feet, okay? And all this is conveyed in hoarse whispers as high as Killua can manage and Gon's ability to understand all the emotions that flicker quick as a flash of light across the other's face.

It can be imagined how long it took to communicate the issue, let alone reach an agreement between both parties.

"Piece of work, this one," Leorio mutters into his bag, shoving his journal deep into the darkest corners in his anger. "Brat. You're gonna have to walk sometime. Wait too long, you won't be able to support your body weight and be stuck with those awful muscle exercises no one likes and just make life harder. And you, Gon!" He aims a weak glare over his glasses. Gon has the decency to look sheepish. "Whose side are you on!? You better at least get him to stretch his legs before the day's out or so help me I'll drag him off that bed myself tomorrow!"

They both know it's an empty threat. Leorio will sooner jump a shark than harm a patient.

"Bye, Leorio!" Gon gets a muffled grumble in response. Leorio peers through the crooked window for one last warning look before he continues on his way. Killua sticks his tongue out in farewell.

Gon sighs, stands, and works the kinks out of his back and arms, nudging Killua with his hip. "Start on your stretches while I make dinner. It'll be ready by the time you're done.

He moves to the kitchen(-slash-dinning room-slash-bedroom) and pulls out Palm's dinner for the day, still wrapped tightly in the pink bandanna she brought it over in. Today's chilled broccoli, mixed rice with veggies, and nearly done mackerel already saturated in sauce. All it'll take to draw out the flavor are a few minutes over a fire.

 _I'll have to ask Palm tomorrow if she can pack a little extra for Killua_. _It should be awhile before he can eat a whole meal._

Gon moves outside. He keeps one eye on Killua through the window as he kneels down to light his makeshift fire pit in the front yard. The boy doesn't move and stares blindly into space, not a muscle so much as twitching to clue Gon into his thoughts. One massive question mark that Gon wants to figure out.

Leorio is bad at being subtle. Like _really_ bad. Kurapika likes to compare it to a roaring bear stumbling blindly through a forest of bells. It was made amply clear over the last few days that Leorio wants Gon to drop Killua off at the town's resident doctor, that he doesn't trust the way the teen's body healed so fast, but Gon also knows Killua is a good person. He doesn't deserve to be dropped off in some strange town with no one to help get him back on his feet (literally or figuratively).

Yes, Gon doesn't know a lot about Killua, but then he didn't know a lot about Kurapika or Leorio when he approached them about getting a ride on their ship. But that's the point, right? You'd never make friends if you distrusted every mysterious person you came across, and Gon figures himself a good judge of character. After all, he's been around the world surviving on the kindness of strangers and he's not dead yet.

Besides, sixty minutes later and Killua still doesn't seem like a bad person, if a little moody.

Gon concentrates on dinner, placing each mackerel on the fire with a pleasing sizzle. The sauce Palm used requires careful observation to keep the meat from drying out, but _oh_ , it is worth it. The smell it gives off as it cooks makes Gon's stomach hurt. When he looks up to check on Killua, he finds the boy on leaning precariously over the edge of his bed, peering out with an alter expression at the fish.

"No food for you if you don't do your exercises," Gon yells. The resulting groan makes him smile, the distant sound of seagulls echoing.


	4. Chapter 4

Gon wakes up to find Killua on the floor. His knees are slightly tinted in the beginnings of some nasty bruises, and there are dark, obnoxious bags under his eyes, trophies from what could only have been a sleepless night. His arms are pinned awkwardly under his body as if he collapsed, jabbing into his stomach and keeping the boy from sleeping soundly.

He's almost the picture of a passed-out drunk, a picture that Gon knows all too well. He can't count on four hands how many times he's stumbled across a sailor in the same shape after one too many drinks completely destroyed their sea legs, body bruised head to toe from all the times they stumbled into one thing or another. Even the gentlest wave could send them spiraling. Obviously alcohol was not the cause of the Killua's current state. So what then? Did he fall out of bed? Try to walk away and collapse? Or did he manage to go outside, only to crawl back later?

_Oh no, what if he's hurt?_

Gon shoves down the instinctive panic easily. He can hear the boy's strong, if a little uneven, breathing. There's no sharp catch of breath, no missed beats. It's such a relief to hear, so much better than the rasping gasps Killua'd had the first couple days, but still, better get him off the floor immediately.

Gon sits up and leans over Killua, trying to be quiet, but the cot groans its usual fearful cry despite his best efforts, stubbornly insisting to take over the absent rooster's job of the morning wake up call.

The reaction is instantaneous and violent. Killua's eyes snap open. His body jerks in surprise, tense in his drowsy confusion, and the grating sound of splintering wood echoes oddly in the startled silence.

Then nothing.

Killua relaxes impossibly slow from his frozen position. Gon finds himself wincing in sympathy with each bone crack and muscle spasm as his body unclenches, uncoiling until he's laying flat against the floor. The boy eventually pushes himself up onto his hands, the slug of exhaustion weighing him down, but he manages to rise to his knees by gripping the side of his bed. Oh, but he doesn't stop there. It takes him several minutes and the near contortion of his body, but he climbs up onto his bed without his feet touching the ground once. The faintly triumphant look on his face is priceless.

"What do you want for breakfast?" Gon asks, knowing the question's moot before he even sees Killua's eyes flutter.

"Fish…" Killua whispers. He's asleep not even a moment later.

Gon takes care when he gets out of bed to avoid more groans or squeaks than necessary, but it's not like it matters. Killua's so deep in sleep now that he's no longer on the drafty floor he doubts a stampede would even stir the boy, let alone drag him back to the world of the living.

It takes some skillful maneuvering on Gon's part, but he manages to gently wiggle the blankets out from under the sleeping boy and tuck him in, grinning when Killua burrows into them like a cat.

He turns to his damaged floor. Deep groves have appeared where Killua had been laying. They're smooth cuts for the most part; they went in pretty clean. All the real damage is farther down, sending cracks throughout the inside, but more than a few splinters have bloomed now that one of the boards has begun to collapse in on itself.

It's easy to manage. Gon simply cuts some of the more bold splinters away and relocates his old dusty rug from the door to neatly take care of the problem, effectively putting it out of sight and out of mind.

Gon takes a long look at Killua. If Killua thinks an explanation is needed, Gon doesn't doubt he'll get one, but it's none of his business what Killua's situation is. He won't ask. It's not of his business if Killua is cursed or not.

Killua doesn't wake up for breakfast or lunch, even when Gon goes out of his way to make the smell of fish distill over the whole house, so for most of the day, Gon's on his own, bored. It wouldn't be so bad if he had anything to do, but there's a reason he spent the better part of his day fishing before his unplanned house guest arrived. There's nothing, absolutely _nothing_ , to do in the rundown hut, and it's not like he can really leave Killua alone. Gon just _knows_ the moment he leaves Killua's going to wake up. It's just how the universe works.

Relief comes in the form of Palm. She comes at her usual time with her newest culinary treat, offering a nice break to the uneventful day, and Gon can't help the wide grin that splits his face when he opens the door.

Palm was the one to carry him to the local hospital after his miraculous survival and the one to save him from that awful hospital food. She'd insisted bringing her cooking around once he was discharged too, and Gon wasn't going to argue with that. The woman was _such_ an amazing cook (nothing next to Mito, but still! A solid second) and Gon looked forward to talking to her everyday.

But despite her amazing skills and warm personality, Palm does have a few… idiosyncrasies that don't sit well with the town. She's abnormally pale, deathly so, and has bags permanently ingrained under her eyes. Her hair is a long black that's so unmanageable the local hairdresser weeps every time he sees it. Then there's the knives she always has somewhere on her person, not to mention the gloomy mood that can spring seemingly from nowhere.

Still, Gon likes her and is _positive_ Leorio and Kurapika would too if they ever found time to actually meet her.

Today, though, she's managed to tame her wild locks, turning it into a smooth curtain of hair that shines in the light, and her usual shapeless, pale dress is a nice, bright shirt and skirt. He thinks she put some blush on too because it has the most color he's seen on her face since…ever.

She not too happy to hear she'll need to pack extra so both Gon and Killua can eat—"These are for _you_ , Gon"— but agrees, blushing lightly when Gon compliments on her hair.

"Knov's coming home soon…" Palm mutters, fiddling shyly with her skirt. Her face turns red, and she won't meet Gon's eyes as she presents today's meal. "I don't know if he'll like me bringing food to another man… but… we can still be friends?"

Gon nods, vaguely mystified and a little hurt (weren't they friends already?), but Palm's already walking away, slightly unsteady on the dirt path in her new shoes. He tries not to feel too disappointed their conversation was so short today and instead sniffs at the food, stomach already growling in anticipation.

He spends dinner in his own company, trying not to feel disappointed when the smell of cooking meat still doesn't wake up his sleeping companion, but it's not for lack of trying. Apparently whatever Killua did last night completely wiped out every drop of energy in his recovering body because he won't wake up no matter how roughly Gon prods him. It worries him that Killua hasn't eaten anything today.

Gon wonders how Palm's doing, if she's making something even more amazing than usual for Knov. With her cooking skills, Gon's still surprised Palm's not some grand master chief in a castle somewhere.

_Come to think of it her fascination with knives might have something to do with it._

Gon leaves a small plate of food on the counter before he goes to bed. The next morning, he's relieved to find the plate completely empty.

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

The next three days follow a similar pattern to the first, except Killua manages to get back to his bed rather than the floor. No new claw marks in the wood either. If he didn't know better, Gon would say Killua slept through the night and never moved from his bed, but the signs are all there. Dark bags under Killua's eyes, the exhaustion when Gon forces him awake for food, the half-empty glass always left on the counter…small snatches of things that seem blaringly obvious when a little attention is applied.

Still Gon's positive— no, _guarantees_ Killua's not leaving at night despite both Kurapika and Leorio insisting otherwise.

One thing his friends don't seem to understand is the hut is a decaying mess. It took Gon over a week to learn to sleep through the incessant whining of the floor boards and the groans of pain the wall occasionally releases to remind him the ceiling really isn't as secure as it should be, but the door squeals like a pig off to slaughter the moment it moves. No one within a good quarter mile can sleep through that, and the only window is above Gon's cot. There's no inconspicuous way out of the house.

Kurapika suggested the wall had a loose board, but skinny as he is, Killua wouldn't be able to fit though the gap. Leorio's theory about a hole in the wall was quickly disproved too.

Besides, Gon asked Killua, and Killua said he didn't leave the hut.

So what then? Nightmares? Insomnia? Pain? Killua can't be staying up for kicks, but it doesn't seem the boy is going to tell him anytime soon. It's only been five days, but Gon can already tell Killua's very secretive, which sets Leorio even farther on edge. Gon insists they give him time, let his voice recover, but the fact of the matter is Killua can string more and more words together every day. In all honesty, Gon doubts it will matter if he can choke out two words or a whole sentence. He's not going to talk. At least, not right away. It'd take time, much more time than Gon has what with the ship coming in a couple weeks.

But if he _made_ more time…stuck around…there's no way Killua could travel…but if he could—

No! Kurapika and Leorio'll kill him if he even _considers_ it!

…

He considers it anyway. Considers it up, down, flipped, side-ways, diagonal …considers from every vantage point until he can't see any new twists, thinks of every possible route until his head spins and the day's gone, lost in the endless muddle of situations looping through Gon's brain. He hasn't even started on reaching a decision when he sighs and heads to bed, finally noticing the complete darkness of late night outside. Way more time passed than he thought. Last he remembered it was dinner…

Oh Gon _hates_ when he gets like this. Sure, it's good in a fight. _Wonderful_ in a fight in fact. He can't even count how many times his quick, out-of-the-box thinking saved his life or someone else's, but being left alone to let an idea fester leaves him disoriented and more than a bit cynical.

And make no mistake that the idea _will_ fester, analyzed until it's been beaten down to exhaustion, wrung out for every available option no matter how impractical—

Now that he thinks about it, it's been ages since this happened. Years. At home he usually had Mito and the animals to keep his mind occupied. Leorio and Kurapika were with him the last six months, and working on a ship had him firing on all cylinders all the time. There simply wasn't a chance to slip into such deep contemplation.

_I hope Killua starts staying up soon._

Gon turns over and shuts his eyes, making himself comfortable as he burrows into a cold spot against the wall. He knows it'll take awhile for his brain to wind down enough for him to sleep. Might as well relax.

It takes a few minutes, but he manages to drift, not quite sleeping but close enough to keep away any real lucidity.

About twenty minutes later, he hears Killua's bed sheets rustle and the floorboards whining in protest. Or maybe it was a bear outside? Gon feels like he was just thinking about some kind of animal on the edge of consciousness. There's a sharp inhale of air from Killua across the room followed by a shaky exhale, and the pure agony enough to draw Gon out of his stupor.

The process repeats. Whine, inhale, exhale. Whine, inhale, exhale. The edge of pain in each breath never eases, present in every step, but why? Leorio assured Gon a long time ago Killua wasn't physically wounded. At least not what he could tell without a proper examining room. So was it internal? But then why would Killua bother getting up?

Five painful, drawn out steps later, he hears the tap running.

 _Just a glass of water?_ That explains the half-finished glass Gon finds every morning. _He knows he can wake me up, right? It's really not that much trouble._

There's the soft clink of the glass on the counter. He hears Killua start to walk again, but this time he trying to walk at a steady pace, no long pausing to catch his breath after each step. Gon tenses every time he hears Killua walk passed, breathing harshly out of exertion and hissing with each heavy step, continuously walking around in circles with a few breaks in between for a moment of reprieve. It's a steady rhythm, relaxing in its predictability, and Gon finds himself drifting off despite himself.

Gon thinks he imagined the unfamiliar voice at first. Wrote it off as a product of half-formed dreams. It drifts through the hut, high and childlike, a little girl's voice, but it holds the same scolding tone Mito always uses. The sound's muted though, like it's being filtered through a screen, and he can't decipher the words.

"I know," Killua rasps, not at all surprised by the voice drifting through the house, and Gon feels a surge of joy. Killua's voice has gotten stronger, palpable, no longer a thin whisper of air or a gravely croak.

The voice talks again, sounding angry.

"I know," Killua answers.

…

"I won't."

…

Suddenly Gon really regrets the position he chose to lie in. There's no way he can turn around without drawing attention to himself, but who is Killua talking to? Is he talking through the door? But then how can Killua hear her when Gon can't? He's still walking around the room, nowhere near the door or window, but obviously he can hear more than just the tone of the voice.

Ugh! Gon needs to see! If not the person talking at least Killua's face. Even a slight frown or smile'll help Gon understand exactly what's happening.

Sighing softly as he closes his eyes, Gon rolls over on his cot and breaths deeply in fake sleep, forcing his chest to rise slow and steady even as his arm screams in protest. He's pinned under his side as he rolled over, and there's no way to move without giving away he's awake.

For a tense moment, Killua doesn't move, most likely starting at Gon. Gon tries not to feel suffocated under the sudden absence of the squeaking floor.

Twenty breaths later, Killua picks up walking again. The voice comes back in thirty. Gon opens his eyes into slits, but he's certain Killua's alone when he answers, "Want to look _now_. Fam'ly—"

The voice cuts him off, taking on a comforting lull. It's quick, a flash in the moonlight with his limited vision, but Gon thinks Killua doesn't look too happy. 

Killua's stopped walking. The voice prattles on, rising in unmistakable anger as it talks, but the concerned tone underneath really throws Gon for a loop. What exactly is going on?!

Silence. Killua walks on without comment. Gon can see his rigid spine, the stubborn set of his shoulders that doesn't loosen even as the spasm of pain shots up his back with his next step. He looks so small. The darkness swallows him up, dwarfing the already bony boy.

"Would you stop?!" The sound of breaking glass accompanies the outburst, shatteringly alien. Gon manages to peer over at the counter without drawing attention to himself, and his eyes widen to double-check that, no, he's not just seeing things. The glass _is_ broken.

"Look!" the girl's voice screams. It's hard, nearly impossible, but Gon can make out of few of her more frustrated words if he concentrates. " _Not part of the deal_ …damaging yourself… _honestly_ … side effects… _month_ …back here...!"

Killua hums and walks on. Gon recognizes that tone. It's neutral, an answer promising nothing, a stall for time. Leorio uses it on a lot of his sicker patents, the ones bordering on terminal, the one's he's not sure he can help.

" _Idiot_ …" He wonders if Killua hears the undercurrent of fondness woven into the insult. He wonders if the speaker herself is even aware of it.

Gon waits a few minutes, straining for the voice, but it's gone. Killua doesn't talk again, but his pace increases with hostile determination until he can manage little more than a harsh wheeze as he walks. The sound of bare feet grating on wood sends chills up Gon's back, and he finds himself more awake than ever with such a painful backdrop of noise.

Well that, and the fact his pinned arm is slowly going numb.

An eternity of steps later, Killua mercifully stops for good, all but collapsing into sleep with an exhausted sigh, and Gon has to stifle down his own groan of relief when he can finally move the weight of his arm. He's been around the world and experienced some amazing things, but there's nothing more glorious than the feeling of blood returning to his cramped fingertips.

 _So Killua made some kind of a deal, huh?_ Gon frowns. _But what kind of bargain did he strike that he's in such a bad shape? Forget long-term side effects, I've never seen anything so bad it made walking and talking nearly impossible. It'd have to be a powerful deal._

He lays on his back, stares up at the ceiling. If he turns his head a little, he can still see the dull color of the rug covering the deep groves in the floor. The claw marks in the floor, if he's being honest with himself. Claw marks that came from the snoring boy passed out on his bed.

… _A_ very _powerful deal…_

Exhausted, Gon barely manages to scrap together a vague idea before blessed sleep shuts his worn out brain down.

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

Leorio bursts in the next day like a rampaging rhino, raging and cursing with such a passion that even the most filthy sailors would slap him for having such a dirty mouth. The most Gon can catch amidst the profanity is Kurapika's furious and something about ships, but he's learned five new curses, which is saying something for a boy who grew up on an island of retired sailors with infinite back pain.

Needless to say Gon and Killua really aren't amused to be woken up after such a late night. Killua tries vainly to go back to sleep with a rather impressive amount of commitment, but he leaves himself wide open for Leorio, who easily scoops him up and out of bed, easily carrying him bride-style outside despite the sheets tangling his legs and the struggling teen in his arms.

"Put me down!" Killua screeches.

"Come on, Gon!" Leorio yells, ignoring Killua. "We need to go!"

Stumbling out of bed, Gon nearly trips over the rug in his haste to grab his shoes and jacket as he runs outside where Leorio's rental car is roaring to life. He slips in the back with Killua, trying not to laugh at the naked wonder on his face as he runs his hands over every available surface with a fascination reserved for three year-olds. It's nothing compared to his face when they start moving though.

Gon thinks Killua has a really nice smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Killua spends most of the ride to Kurapika's house pressed against the window, turning his head wildly every which way in a useless attempt to see everything as they speed through the town. Leorio won't stop grumbling at him to keep his grubby prints off the glass, but there's no real fire behind it. If anything he sounds ridiculously amused, and he and Gon keep exchanging looks that make Killua feel defensive.

There aren't many buildings at the bottom of the sea. The materials to build a stable residence just aren't available in the abundance needed, and it's not like most creatures aren't satisfied with a nice hole in the ground. Killua's house is an unbelievable rarity anywhere in the world, but you can only look at a miracle of nature for so long before it gets mundane. These houses though…he didn't know there could be such a variety of buildings in one area, let alone such a variety of life.

Zaban is first and foremost a town. It's no tourist attraction or a booming market place swarming with countless culture—there's barely any inn space for a quarter of the personnel on a moderate-sized ship after all—but it's still a coastal location, all sun and palms and fresh sea air and friendly people who will actually wave when they see Killua's face pressed to the window. It's so full of life and so many things Killua's had never really seen before, so hr thinks his excitement is perfectly justified, thank you. Gon and Leorio have no right to be as amused as they are.

They turn down a narrow street were all the houses are squished together, barely any alleyways among the bright colors, and Killua wonders why they all live so close if neighbors are as annoying as people liked to claim. Kids run up and down the street with high-pitched laughter and reckless games, and Leorio has to slam on his breaks more than once to avoid a kid chasing after a stray ball. Mothers stand in groups around the kids whispering to each other, only a few venturing into the children's games like the fathers so openly do. Those groups tend to be the most one-sided, kids ambushing the dad only to be picked up or shrugged off like nothing, but they seem to laugh the loudest. Killua notices Gon's eyes tend to linger on them.

Eventually Leorio steers them out into a more open area. The street and houses branch out into much more comfortable, distanced locations, but Killua finds he misses all the noise such an enclosed part of town had. There's not as much to look at anymore, and now the horrible roaring sound coming from the monster he's in is that much louder.

(Gon said it's called a car, which Killua knew, but the only thing Killua's ever heard make such a roar lived in one of the darkest trenches in the sea. So no, it's a monster. A very ugly, yellow monster.)

They pull up in front of the fanciest building on the block, which isn't saying much. It's nice in a modest way, homey, and Killua notices tiny little bees busily making a home in the garden box outside. Still, there isn't much separating it from the other houses beyond new paint and another two floors.

Leorio and Gon climb out, but before Killua can even stick his head out of car, Leorio's there, kneeling down to grab the boy. Obviously Killua shoves him away, stubbornly fighting to get out onto the ground, but the doctor blocks his way, roughly pushing Killua's hands to the side.

"You little—" He narrowly dodges the struggling boy's foot and grabs at his shirt. Killua grabs Leorio's glasses and throws them back into the car, still shoving at him with his feet. "Just— stop— _you can't walk dammit!_ "

"Leorio..."

The doctor snaps his head around to look at Gon. Killua takes advantage and shoves Leorio out of the way. He steps out before either of them can stop him. It's impossible to miss the wince that shutters though his body, but he looks smugly at the doctor, counting the very fact he's standing as a victory.

"...You think you can handle it?" Leorio asks, crossing his arms.

Pure pride fuels Killua forward and lets him walk into the inn without any stumbling. It hurts, yeah, but it's nothing compared to the first time he tried to walk. Or maybe he's just used to it. Regardless, what once felt like a ten-foot spike driving itself into Killua's heel is now only four mild slashes of a double-edged sword. Painful, but tolerable enough that he can stay on his feet.

He does wish he had some shoes to avoid the added pain of the stones and pebbles that seem to be scattered everywhere outside, but it's no use to get them since he's only staying a week, and he really doesn't want to explain to Gon why he can't tie laces. Plus they look kinda uncomfortable. 

The inside is just as nice as the outside, if not even more inviting. The check-in desk is shoved against the wall like an afterthought to make space for a lounge that takes up most of the floor. There's a decent-sized TV on the far right with a ring of chairs seating a large group of men, and littered around the remaining space are tables decorated with bee designs. A small bookshelf sits next to the TV, games and cards stacked on top.

Leorio leads the way, waving to a pleasant-looking girl minding check-in as they pass. Killua lingers, staring at the moving people in the TV, and has to be hurried along by Gon.

When they reach the stairs, Gon doesn't even break his stride as he literally sweeps Killua off his feet. He bounds up the steps two at a time with the boy in his arms and touches down on the fourth floor before Killua even fully realizes what happened.

Killua can't help but feel irritated by the tender way Gon sets him down after all the struggle he went through to prove he wasn't some fragile piece of coral, his pride stinging. It only makes him feel worse when he inevitably staggers (the first step is always the most painful). Still,  he can't help but notice Gon does his best to covertly offer his support, backing off once he's sure Killua's stable. No lingering to make sure he's okay, just a silent confidence that, yes, Killua can walk.

...So maybe he does understand a bit.

_No fair._

Killua looks back at Gon, unable to keep the glare completely from his face. "…Thanks."

It's obvious Gon expected Killua's weak glare, but not his muttered thanks, and the pure surprise is closely followed by Gon's stupid bright smile. "You're welcome." 

Killua really hates the burning sensation spreading over his face and into the pit of his stomach, coiling his gut into a tight clench that makes him want to vomit. No wonder humans never put themselves out there; this embarrassment thing is so much worse when it's accented by physical reactions.

Leorio brushes passed, having walked "like a normal human being" up the stairs, and leads the group down the hall.

Kurapika's in room forty-four. The doctor's barely knocked on the door before it's yanked open, revealing the golden haired boy from the ship. Same exact costly clothes too except now they're hanging awkwardly off his body like he threw them on in a hurry. His eyes drift right over Killua, which really suits the boy just fine, fixing on Leorio and pulling him inside quickly.

Killua quickly enters after Gon and sits down on the closest chair. It's stiff and awkward, but relief is relief and he almost groans once he takes his weight off his feet.

The rest of the room looks along the same lines as the chair. The lounge had a genuinely warm feeling, but this room tries too hard to capture the same atmosphere, doing the exact opposite of what it intended. Too bright, too welcoming…fake in the authenticity it tries to capture. The only mildly comfortable-looking things are the beds placed in the center of the room, but even then the bright bedspread is a bit off putting.

"What do you mean?" Gon voice drifts into Killua's awareness, the concerned tone catching his attention.

"The ships aren't coming. They took off. Were paid and everything, but they ran with it." Kurapika barks out a harsh laugh to cover the concern and fear obvious in every word, every step he takes towards the couch jerky and full of barely contained panic. "They're risking the Kurta Clan's wrath, the wrath of 'demons' …why? What happened?"

Kurapika sits shakily onto the couch next to Killua's chair, head in his hands. "They denied my request, Gon. I can't call home. There's no way to get in contact with the elder, Mom, Dad, _Pairo_ …heh… It's not urgent enough to dictate a five minute phone call."

Leorio sits down next to Kurapika, rubbing his shoulder in comfort while his own face stews as an outlet for Kurapika's anger. It does little to ease the tension, but the golden haired boy offers up a grateful quirk of the lips.

"We'll have to travel to the nearest port town to be able to buy passage on a new ship," Kurapika continues, "but the crew…I promised them a way home."

"I assume the military outpost won't be any help, seeing as they disproved your call," Leorio growls.

"We're stuck," Kurapika agrees.

Gon must notice how confused Killua is because he kneels down next to him and explains the situation under his breath as the older two make plans.

Apparently humans have a device called a phone that allows contact with people across really long distances in a short amount of time. Only problem is a call that's too far away is really expensive, so regular phones won't always reach the people you need them too, and even then _those_ people need to be near that particular phone (sounds kinda flawed if you ask Killua). 

In such a small town like Zaban, the only phone that could possibly reach Kurapika's family is kept at the military outpost on the edge of town. Anyone is supposed to be able to get permission and use the phone with little trouble so long as they don't go overboard with the amount of calls (that humans insist on money to let someone contact home faintly disgusts Killua) but the military is a bit… rough around the edges.

"'Rough around the edges?'" Leorio snaps. Killua wonders if there's anything that  _doesn't_  provoke the doctor's temper. "The whole reason we lost so many people after the ship wrecked was because they weren't on watch! And they won't let _anyone_ contact home! Now they turn away a prince—"

"No use getting mad, Leorio," Kurapika says, chiding.

Killua has never seen an argument escalate so quickly in the space of five sentences.

Gon tries to pacify the situation, but the sparks have caught and are already burning out of control. Killua shrinks away from the shouting match blooming in front of him, recognizing immediately when they start into what must be the usual bickering that's plague them these last few days. There's a weariness that takes over their tone that only thoroughly beaten arguments have, and Killua knows all that's left is to ride out the argument.

Gon and Killua exchange looks, Gon offering a small, apologetic grin. They glance away from each other, look at their hands, study the featureless wall, trying vainly to ignore the fight they really aren't a part of, but boredom makes Killua feel antsy.

"—should have left as soon as we knew who survived—"

"People needed to heal—"

Suddenly Gon thrusts his hands forward into Killua's sight, his fist sitting lightly on his cupped hand. Confusion sweeps over the pale boy, especially at Gon's expectant expression, but he mimes the gesture.

"Rock, paper," Gon whispers, bouncing his fist on his palm.

Killua manages to catch on fast, bouncing his own fist on the last beat before throwing his hand flat. Apparently Gon beats him, but Killua's just relieved they're both thinking of the same game. He saw a few people play this on the beach and understands what the three signs stand for, but it takes a few matches to figure out exactly what beats what. It curbs the boredom though. In fact he finds himself enjoying himself and completely forgetting about the tired battle raging around him.

"It's a simple matter to head to a new town—"

"—don't forget about your _patient_   who can't even _walk!_ Are you just going to leave him?"

Both of the younger boys look up, Killua with an added stink eye. Kurapika has the decency to look embarrassed at dragging the boy into their fight, and even Leorio tones back his voice for his next remark.

"No!" But the doctor sounds defensive. "Not right now. But we were going to leave in a few weeks anyway!" He gestures haphazardly to the town outside the window. "What did you want me to do with him?! No one's going to take him in for free, and the town doctor hates us as it is after sucking up most of his resources."

"Then we'll get him a room—"

"With what money?"

"—that I'll be able to pay for once I get home." Kurapika glares pointedly at Leorio. "We can ask Ponzu. She should be more than happy to make a deal with us."

"And we need time to get everything together, too," Gon butts in. "It's not like we can leave right away." He looks at Killua. "We'll need another week or so to get everything in order, and we'll try to find you some place to stay."

Killua begins to shake his head (it surprises him how fond he's grown of that crappy shack once he's in danger of leaving) but maybe that's for the best. He doesn't have forever up here the surface. In fact he's already pushing passed the deadline he'd had in mind. Killua's a Zoldyck, not a human.

He realizes with a start that this conversation is actually void of any real consequence. Sure, maybe he spends a day or two at the inn exploring the town alone, but then he'll go home. Biscuit will give him instructions, and Killua will return to his future as head of the family. He wouldn't mind another week with Gon though, or even Leorio. And Kurapika seems like he's usually fairly pleasant. Just a few more days to understand them better, maybe a week to learn some more games. He _has_ to play rock-paper-scissors again until he beats Gon _once_.

Decision made (the last bit of the conversation went right over Killua's head) Kurapika seems content to let them go on their way. He almost collapses back into the couch, boneless as a jellyfish, and gathers himself with a few deep breaths. Leorio looks down at him, frowning in worry.

Killua watches the moment with interest. The blatant tenderness and ease between the two takes him aback, especially after such a fierce fight. The whole space of the room changes around them, the air and colors softening as Leorio gently sits down next to his friend. They don't even touch or exchange words, but the comfort and support drifting between them makes Killua feel awkward and displaced.

Gon puts his hand on Killua's shoulder and lightly tugs in silent question. Killua rises slowly and follows him out, glad to get away from the suddenly suffocating room. He even lets Gon help him down the stairs with little struggle, quietly swearing the next time he'll be strong enough to do it himself.

The TV in the lounge has been abandoned but is still on. The girl at the check-in—Ponzu?—seems to be watching the show in between filling out papers. Gon's set on a straight course to the door, but Killua finds himself lingering again, eyeing the colorful images on the screen, but he quickly looses interest. Who watches a show about insects?

Outside the boys find it's heated up a little. The ground underneath Killua pokes warmly at his bare feet, but he doesn't really feel it. Prolonged time on his feet has made lower legs become curiously numb, which means he has about an hour until the pain comes back.

To the right he can see a window full of yapping dogs. To the left are a group of kids playing with a ball.

_Only a few days, right?_

"Hey, Gon…" The other boy turns around. "Can we…" Killua gestures to the puppies, trying to find the right word. "…go see?"

Gon nods, much to Killua's relief, and leads him over.

Killua's not too surprised the animals don't seem all that pleased to have him nearby seeing as they call probably smell the truth on him, but the puppies practically smash against the glass in their haste to get near Gon. They tumble over each other, wiggle their tails, and squirm in excitement, a jumbled mess of activity. Gon simply laughs and heads into the store, beckoning Killua to follow.

Killua has never been so thankful for human deficiency. Had his nose been as strong as a Zoldyck, Killua doubts he would have survived inside for more than ten seconds. Fur, chemicals from cleaning, feathers, slobber…it all rises in one giant smell that slams into his scenes. He pauses in the door, reeling, but Gon's completely undeterred. After a few moments of adjustment, Killua's able to follow the other boy over to the puppies, trying not to breathe through his nose.

Just like before, the hyper animals all give Killua a wide girth while crowding Gon, all except for one little solider that runs to the edge of the pen and barks at the Zoldyck. It's just this giant mass of white with two big black spots that are supposed to be eyes, hardly intimidating, but Killua finds himself liking the tiny rebel. When he bends down to touch it, the puppy nips at his fingers, but lets Killua pet him with little fuss.

"I see Mike likes you," an elderly worker says, smiling kindly at Killua. "Can I help you boys with anything or are you just here to see the dogs?"

"Dogs," Killua admits.

The nice man has a loud, full laugh that makes Killua grin. "We then just make sure to wash your hands when you're done. Don't want to get sick." He nods to the bottle of hand sanitizer on the wall. "Be careful with Mike, though. Once he decides he doesn't like you, your fingers and toes don't stand a chance."

Gon has his hands full entertaining at least ten dogs at a time, Mike sticking with Killua, but by the time Leorio shows up the boys are working together on a game of catch. Killua's proud to say Mike outclasses them all, almost always getting to the ball before anyone else. He may not look it, but the puppy's a tiny, merciless speed demon.

Neither of the boys can hold back a snort when Mike dashes for Leorio, biting hard onto the older man's hand when he reaches down to pet him, drawing blood. Then the puppy turns his evil eyes on Leorio's dress shoes.

Their expedition is ended soon after.

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

There's a weird girl sitting outside when Killua and Gon get dropped off at the hut.

Killua frowns at the unfamiliar person, lingering near the car with reserved suspicion. She looks familiar, and Killua can't place where he's seen her before, but seeing as he's spent most of his time on the surface lying in bed she has to be from the sea, a threat—

"Palm!"

Or she's the woman who brings dinner. There's that too.

Only after he calms down does Killua notice the box sitting next to the woman giving off a delicious scent. The feeling of failure takes him by surprise, and he has to remind himself how dull his nose is now, how weak his scenes are.

_(Oh, but that's no excuse, right? A Zoldyck should've noticed. _A Zoldyck should be able to figure out the situation quickly._ )_

Gon sits next to the woman, grinning that same easy smile he's had all day. He plucks the box off the ground, sniffing it before licking his lips. "This smells so _good!_ Sorry you had to wait, Palm, but Kurapika needed some help."

The woman frowns. "Is everything okay?" She doesn't react when Killua comes to stand beside Gon, stubbornly keeping his breathing even despite the throbbing in his feet. That car ride took too long. He's no longer numb.

"The ship isn't coming," Gon says, picking idly at the food box between them. "We have to find a different way home, or at least a way to…I think Dolle Harbor is the closest port."

"Dolle Harbor?" Killua doesn't like this. He can see the cogs turning in the woman's head, see the idea spring to life in her dull gray eyes. "You know, me and Knov are heading up there at the end of the week. We've got a job lined up in NGL." She shrugs, looking bashful. "You could come with us. There's plenty of room in the cart we're taking."

"'Cart?'"

For the first time the woman turns to look at Killua. "Yes, a cart," she says curtly, mistaking the agitated confusion in his tone for distaste.

Gon stands up and helps the woman to her feet before grabbing Killua's shoulder. It's a light touch though, almost hovering over the thin fabric of his tee, and Killua feels that stab of thankfulness for Gon's perceptiveness. Any added weight and Killua would buckle to his knees. "You haven't really met Killua, huh Palm? He hasn't really traveled much. Probably hasn't seen a cart either."

The woman hums, a little forgiveness leaking into her face, but as far as first impressions go, Killua's pretty much damned.

"We can't afford a car," Palm explains, completely unforgiving for her situation, "and there's some business we have on the way that's easier to do out of the back of an open cart. Crystal balls tend to break jumping around in the trunk on a rocky road anyway. Carts are just a safer way to travel. Leaves a lot of room, though. I'm sure you could fit, Gon, and your friends."

"Thanks, Palm!" Gon says immediately. The complete lack of contemplation throws Killua. "When are you guys leaving?"

"Six days."

"Cool! We get some more time to explore." Gon turns to Killua and beams, open and eager. Eager to spend time with _Killua_. _Freely_. There's no Dad forcing Gon to watch Killua, no obligation, no monitoring…hell, Killua could probably go as far into town as he wants with Gon, and the other would willingly tag along. Happily tag along. It's like they're...friends...

_Ah crap._


	6. Chapter 6

It's expected that two teenage boys will run out of things to do over the course of five days in a small town, but then most teenage boys aren't a fish for the first fifteen years of their lives. Or Gon Freecs for that matter.

Admittedly their first day out on the town was common by all accounts, and the rest of the week wasn't looking promising. Even with Killua taking periodic breaks every hour or two, they still manage to hit all the major stores, eat at four of the five recommended restaurants, and stop at every toy store in town. They take time to visit Kurapika and Leorio, and Killua has to admit the old guy can be kinda cool when he's not freaking out over Killua's health or sticking cold metal under his shirt.

The prince, well… it's really obvious he has a lot on his mind. Killua gives him the benefit of the doubt.

The two teens take turns choosing which direction they take on the way home that afternoon until no street looks unfamiliar and no store has been left unvisited, the sky slowly morphing into black above. They call it a day when most of the major stores close and the only ones open won't let them in anymore on account of age restrictions.

On the second day, they find a tunnel that runs roughly fifty miles underneath the city and spend most of that day and the next exploring all the paths. Nearly all of them lead to a creepy swamp a mile from the edge of town. The rest are caved in. There's not much variety, but at least it keeps them from getting lost or permanently separated.

Biscuit has a field day on the third night when she finds out out her client's been using his time, spending at least an thirty minutes outlining all the ways the last three days have been a horrible idea, the glass nearly vibrating with her voice.

"You're going to _kill_ yourself!" Killua can physically feel the glare Biscuit's sending him from the middle of the sea, but come on! What did she think he was doing all day when he wasn't in the hut sleeping? "If you would just wait another three days, you'd be okay! You've got at least another _week_ before your family gets serious about finding you. Plenty of time to explore on your _own_ and get back."

 _But I don't want to explore by myself._ Killua shoves the thought down— could he sound any more like a spoiled child?— and continues to walk his usual path around the hut like a caged animal. It's been over two hours since he started. Added to the time he spent on his feet with Gon today, he should be a mess, but the pain…well, it's not _gone_. He's simply used to the ground constantly feeling like broken glass. It just doesn't faze him anymore, and he gradually notices the pain less as days pass. Soon it'll almost be like he's normal.

"Look, we don't know if anything else is going to go wrong with your body! It was already going to be difficult enough to return you to your normal state, and now I have all these side effects to worry about! Teenage bodies are just—ugh! They never react the way you want 'em with spells."

"Which would have been nice to know before I made my deal!" Killua keeps his voice in a whisper as he yells, but it's a close thing. This is what he gets for going to a witch.

"I thought you were old enough! You're of age in the Zoldyck's eyes! How would _I_ know that only equaled fifteen human years? Besides, I warned you there would be complications before. I warn _everyone_ who deals with me there are complications! In your case the kinks were more severe than anticipated, and we have no idea whether more will pop up! So just stay off your feet and avoid using your voice no matter how much better they get. The chance of relapse is high, Killua. You could be in danger at any time!"

Killua crosses the room, holds up the glass, and makes a face at it (he assumes Biscuit can see him) before he dumps the water in the sink. He never drinks the water after he's communicated with the witch through it. Biscuit swears it shouldn't do anything to the water, but he _knows_ it doesn't taste like salt before she appears.

He climbs into bed, barely noticing the steady throb in his legs.

By the fifth day and final day, Gon and Killua are racing each other to the end of the tunnel and betting dinner on the winner. Killua feels like he's flying every time they run. He's so happy, so excited and hyped up on adrenaline that he wouldn't be surprised to find he was floating if he looked down, levitating out of the sheer joy that makes everything seem brighter, and the feeling stays even when they break for lunch.

Gon has Killua in stitches as he recounts a particularly interesting trip to a cedar tree when Leorio pops in, dropping a key into Killua's lap with a cocky grin.

Gon cuts off his story and looks at the doctor with a confused expression that matches Killua's, except Gon's confusion disappears pretty quickly to be replaced with a tight, almost sour look. That leaves Killua to ask, "Um…what're these?"

"The key to your new room," Leorio says triumphantly. "Ponzu agreed to let you stay for a week or two while you get on your feet and decide what you're gonna do."

And just like that Killua feels like crap because, well… what _is_ he going to do now? He not sure how attached is too attached for Biscuit, but he'd be lying if he said it didn't occur to him that, hey, he's still really skinny. And small. And doesn't take up a lot of room. He could fit in a cart pretty easily and come with them. He could stow away. He can't say he hasn't made half-serious plans to hide in the cart before they left.

But then there's his family. The family that knows he's really a Zoldyck, that he grew up with, that taught him everything he knows. The family he has to run someday. The family that makes him eat people and steal scraps from his sister because he can't eat. The family he'll have to spend forever lying to. The family that never once asked what _he_ wants.

But then there's Gon and Leorio and even Kurapika. The people who look genuinely happy to see his health improve, who make Killua laugh harder than he ever remembers, who make Killua really want… _something_. Something for himself. Something that's not just shoved in his face as a responsibility he has to carry out. Something he can honestly say he wants, and he knows he's not going to find his own on the ocean floor, that's for sure.

And...he likes their friendship. No, more than likes. He wants it now, _needs_ it.

Oh, but he's not going to say that out loud! Not to Leorio and definitely not to Gon. It's…it'd be pathetic, wouldn't it? Admitting he has no goals in life beyond wanting to be their friend out loud makes his stomach clench with the horrible feeling of shame with underlining embarrassment that just makes him feel a thousand times worse.

(Besides, reality's a bitch, and Killua knows he can't actually stay. He just can't. But he can draw it out as long as possible.)

So as casually as he can, Killua slides the keys back over to Leorio and shrugs. "I wanna go to the harbor with you guys. I can catch a ship there, right? Travel." He hopes his excuse doesn't sound as lame as it is. "I mean we've been…all over…Za…" He makes a weak attempt to clear his throat, but his voice is gone. Gritting his teeth, Killua gestures to the town, hoping he got his point across.

"Sure, you can come," Gon says. And that's that, because it might've only been five days, but Killua already knows when Gon makes a decision, you don't argue. Not unless you want to feel like you're banging your head of a brick wall.

Leorio just sighs and grabs the keys, shoving them back in his pocket. He signals the waiter for a coffee, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Thought so. Picked up another stray…"

Gon launches right back into his story, immediately capturing Killua's attention before he can think too hard about whatever nonsense the doctor's spouting off to the side. In fact the skinny boy's all too happy not to look his gift horse in the mouth.

What does it matter anyway?

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

"Geez, you've only been there—what? Fifteen days? You can't be that attached already! Not enough to jump on a cart with the boy!"

Killua gasps when Biscuit's voice appears right behind him, sucking the granola bar Kurapika brought him for breakfast down the wrong pipe. He's not exactly sure which of the other four occupants pats his back as he coughs, but then that isn't exactly his first concern.

"Surprised? Really? Did you listen to _any_ of my explanation? 'I hold the right to check up on you'? Don't tell me you thought I needed your help to find you?"

 _That's exactly what I thought._ He waves off the helping hand on his back, trying not to sigh. There's no way he can dump the water to get rid of Biscuit this time; human's have that annoying need to be constantly drinking the stuff, and Knov's dead set on getting to Dolle Harbor in record time. No stopping at small towns to replenish stock. They have to make due with what was brought, and dumping out the water every time Biscuit decides to pop in probably won't sit well with anyone.

Speaking of Knov, Killua still hasn't seen the guy. Presumably he's the one driving up front, alone by preference if Killua understands correctly. Kicked the woman in the back with the four of them to watch the products and make sure they don't shatter. He sounds like an ass if you ask Killua, but he tries to reserve his judgment for now. No need to clash heads with the unofficial leader.

Biscuit yawns way too loud for it to be anything but fake and makes obnoxious smacking sounds with her mouth. Killua feels his eye twitch. "Well _I'm_ going to go polish my gems. Just remember, would you? That you aren't actually human, that there's a time limit?"

Killua clenches his hands in his oversized shorts and says nothing, biting down the hurt and hunching in on himself. He makes out Gon beside him looking around in confusion, thankfully missing Killua's reaction, but it sure doesn't escape the witch's notice.

"That came out …just know that I may be more powerful than your whole family combined, but even _I_ can't make you completely human. It's impossible to change what you really are. You can't change a frog into a swan any more than you can change a Zoldyck into a human."

…

"Just know that I would if I could, Killua. I don't want any needless deaths on my hands. If I can get you home, you bet I'm going to do my best."

He waits a few minutes, but Biscuit stays silent. Killua tries to keep the bite out of his voice when he asks Leorio to move over ("I want to take a nap, okay? It's boring!"), but Kurapika sends him a concerned look that has his skin crawling.

Leorio is predictably wired when they stop for lunch a few hours later, irritably biting huge chunks out of his energy bar, but he contains himself. Killua finds he's in much the same mood, the heat doing him no favors, but by the time they stop for dinner he's more or less resigned to a lukewarm restlessness (though he's finally able to kick off his shoes, which brightens his mood considerably).

Gon, who looks as bored as Killua feels, tries to engage him in a game of rock-paper-scissors, but the effort falls short pretty quickly. Neither of them are really into it in the first place. The shorter boy lets his hands drop and looks over at Kurapika. "You wanna spar?"

 _What? Gon can fight?_ Excitement bursts in Killua's chest. He's never seen humans fight in their own territory. He's seen them struggle in water, gracelessly flapping their arms to "swim," but honest to goodness fighting? Sign Killua up for that. Not to brag or anything, but he could give Illumi a run for his money when they sparred, and his other siblings were _nothing_.

(Could he still fight on land? Would some of his skill remain, or is he trapped in a useless, uncoordinated hunk of skin and bone?)

It's obvious from the haggard look on the prince's face that, no, he really doesn't, but he gets up anyway, a fond smile teasing at his lips when Gon enthusiastically jumps up to follow him away from the cart. Killua sees Leorio sigh and pull out his pocket medical bag. "Watch the chains. I don't have a lot of disinfectant in here."

Kurapika shoots the doctor of withering look. "Are you insinuating I don't take care of my chains?" he demands, offended.

Leorio holds his hands up in surrender but smirks, completely undermining the gesture. Killua holds down a snort at the pissy expression Kurapika shots his friend in response.

That woman they're traveling with —Palm?— leans against the cart silently, her hair disappearing in the shadow she stands in, but her pale skin keeps her from completely blending. That and the knives hanging loosely in her hands, glinting sharply in the fading sunlight. She reminds him of an eel, lingering, ready to lash out at a moment's notice.

Killua can't even figure out himself why he doesn't really like this girl, just that she gives off…not a bad feeling, but an odd sense of pressure. There's always an underling threat in the way she moves, the expert way she carves with her culinary knife, hidden power oozing from her thin frame in silent warning.

 _Like Illumi_ , Killua thinks, _except without all the menace._

He hates not knowing how strong she really is, the level of skill she has compared to Killua's own (if he even has any left). When he was a Zoldyck, there wasn't anything that surpassed him. Now? He has to be careful, and Palm's a constant reminder.

The sudden sound of chains harshly clanging together snaps Killua's attention back to Gon and Kurapika.

Kurapika is standing composed as ever, face blank, his arm outstretched towards Gon. A chain's extending out of his sleeve, wrapped around the fishing rod Gon used to block the attack. He casually flicks his wrist to call his chains back, detangling them from the rod.

Gon launches himself at the prince, keeping pace with the chain's return, already prepared to strike as he sprints. Kurapika easily sidesteps Gon's wide swing, but barely manages to duck when the younger boy changes the rod's direction at the last second, using the wide arc of his attack to his advantage.

And they're off.

Gon fights with a kind of ferocity Kurapika doesn't have. His attacks constantly involve jumping, sprinting, dodging, twisting…he utilizes his smaller stature and speed like nobody's business, darting in circles around his opponent (his prey) looking for an opening to attack and blocking with his fishing rod.

Kurapika's all controlled movements and strategic strikes, barely a breath wasted. He slips like water around Gon's punches and kicks, molding his body to evade the next strike before it even comes. The prince keeps his chain-free arm up, using it to block, but Gon keeps close, raining blow after blow and allowing no opportunities.

It's impressive, sure, but Killua finds his eyes drawn to the pure _movement_. Regardless of how efficient—or inefficient—Gon is while fighting, the boy's like a feral animal, graceful in how raw he fights, and _Kurapika_ …if Killua didn't know better, he'd say the prince was dancing.

The fight doesn't last terribly long. If anything it was more like a stretch for both of them, a quick way to unwind. Gon only manages to deflected Kurapika's chain twice before it manages to wrap around his ankle, successfully letting him yank Gon's leg out from under him. Gon twists his body, letting the back of his shoulder harmlessly take the brunt of the impact, and tries to stand up, but Kurapika's chain just tangles all the more as he moves.

Kurapika steps forward and retracts his chain. He holds out his hand and helps Gon up, giving Leorio a superior look. "Would you like to check for tetanus?"

Gon meets Killua's eyes, sees his interest. "Do you fight, Killua?"

"I did, but my feet…I'm not sure if I can." Which isn't really a lie, though Killua figures what he did would be considered slaughter rather than fighting, but hey! It wasn't like the two didn't have near identical skill sets. Kinda.

Gon lightly lobs his lure at Killua, the line softly whistling as it smoothly unwinds into a high arc. Killua simply steps to the side, raising an eyebrow at the other boy. He makes sure Gon sees him turn his left foot outwards to point towards the spot he previously stood.

The lure plummets. It skims Killua's hair before bouncing harmlessly on the ground beside him, narrowly missing the tip of his outturned foot.

Challenge sparks in Gon's eyes, bright and playful, and he yanks his lure back, not even bothering to reset the line before he recasts, launching it at a much lower and faster arc. Again Killua calmly sidesteps to the left, and the lure doesn't even come within five inches of him.

Then Gon steps towards him, lessening the reaction time Killua has, and yanks his lure back, whipping it at the skinny boy.

Killua's next dodge is clumsy at best. It's an awkward tangle of unskilled limbs and anticipation, a spike of adrenaline tripping him up all the more, but he successfully dodges left again. Gon doesn't pause his attacks and Killua doesn't slow, continuously stepping left and dodging, jumping right and dodging, stumbling where a flick of his tail would propel him multiple miles but feet only manage measly inches. His ankles turn at odd angles when he crouches, tensed for 360 movements that aren't possible outside of water.

Gon's attack comes straight on towards Killua's chest, and in the chaos of snap decisions and momentary planning he forgets that moving his legs to propel him up doesn't actually propel him up but rather results in a pretty weak jump straight up. The result is a sound hit to the gut that knocks the wind out of him and an abrupt end to their improv, but Killua's smiling all the same. At least he's still got some capabilities.

"Do you know how to anything except dodge?" Palm asks, stepping a bit out from the shadows. Killua shrugs. "Because your arms hang at your sides like useless noodles. You barely moved them. You forget about them? And not once did you attempt to attack Gon…" Palm gives him an apprising look. "But you obviously have some idea what you're doing."

She comes forward. Killua tenses, feeling that familiar defensiveness spring up in his gut, and she has the good sense to put down her knives before coming to stand next to Gon. Palm and Killua stare at each other, a silent size-up while Gon awkwardly shifts next to them.

Then Palm springs forward, swinging her arm in a wide punch towards Killua. He starts to step back, bring his fists up in reflex, and Palm screams, "Don't back down! Block!"

He clumsily deflects her punch and moves forward, hesitates before bringing up his right leg to kick her, copying Gon from earlier, but the sudden shift of weight sends a million daggers shooting up his other leg. It's too much, and he's on the ground a moment later, the air knocked out of him and a sudden cold sweat breaking out.

"Why would you use your _legs_?" Palm demands, letting Gon help Killua up. She draws the line at Leorio though, holding one hand up to him with such authority that the doctor actually gulps when he stops, small medical bag half way open. "You need to use your fists! Unlike Gon _you_ don't have freakishly long legs. Well, proportionally," she says, noting the inch or two height difference as the boys stand up. "You're center of balance is much higher, plus your legs are already weak. Upper body is the best bet. I'll help you—"

"What does it even matter?" Killua scowls.

A sudden chill sweeps over the group. Palm chuckles in front of him, bursting into whole-hearted laughs that leave her gasping for breath barely a second later. She sounds insane, the laughter more like a squeal of pain than the joyful tone it should have, and Killua feels icy regret spread from his chest.

"What does it matter he says!" she cackles. "Oh, it matters! To the thieves and the robbers and the child-snatches all over the world!" Palm spreads her hands to her cart, body still trembling with mirth. "It matters to the ones who would steal for a pretty penny! The ones desperate for a cart! Food! A horse!" She rounds on him, pinching a piece of his hair between her fingers like a valuable commodity, her eyes wide. "'Such pretty hair. I wonder what is sells for'…they'll think."

Palm looks to Gon, and Killua has to give him credit. He doesn't show any reaction to the heavy presence Palm has around her, doesn't even look like he notices. "So sad, huh? No shape to travel. No defense to the evil. No hope. You can't always protect him. Can't always protect everyone. Nope. Nopenopenopenope so dangerous —"

"I get it! Okay!" Killua snaps, because what does it matter? A few days of self-defense for the sake of adventures he's never going to have will at least put off his boredom. At the very least it'll keep Palm quiet.

"Good," Palm says, winding down. "We'll start with the basic basics."

 

 

 

_> <((((^> <^))))><_

Palm and Knov take care of their business the next day with a mousy man that reminds Killua of a small fish. A shrimp perhaps, or krill. Something about him just screams "prey." Maybe it's his shifty eyes, the way he curls in on himself, or even how he barely manages to stammer out his agreement with the price before scurrying off, not even offering a goodbye.

And he's just plan _weird_. The man bought a massive case of crystal balls he could barely push the five inches needed to get it off the road, and then he just runs off, leaving it for anyone to take.

"Should you really do that?" Kurapika asks as they leave. He eyes the box critically from the back of the cart, frown deepening the farther they get.

"It's not our business what our customers do," Knov speaks up from the front, his smooth voice easily carrying over the rattling of the cart. Killua vaguely surprised the whole thing doesn't collapse around them, but Knov's dead set on pushing the cart to its limit, consequences be damned.

And what do they do with this extra time speeding allows them? They torture Killua in the name of training.

Everyone has a suggestion to make, a flaw to fix, a new way to fight. God, even Knov makes an appearance on their last day on the road to tell Killua exactly what he's doing wrong.

After he calmed down, Killua did appreciate Knov's advice, but at the time he just wanted to sock the guy in his tidy little face. He was like Leorio if he had an extreme excess of class and an ego, both of them all suits and spiffy glasses, except Knov kept his hair slicked back and walked like he has a stick up his ass.

Palm declares Killua officially "somewhat capable" to defend himself an hour before they get to Dolle Harbor, which means Killua has maybe thirty minutes to sleep and allow his sore muscles to rest before being herded out of the cart and through the south entrance of the city, barely managing a fleeting good-bye to Palm and Knov. He gets some rushed explanation from Leorio shouted over the bustling crowd that the two have a friend staying near the west gate and their ship is easier to get to from the south.

All he knows is there's barely anytime for him to look at the town or people They keep him boxed in between the three of them to make sure he doesn't wander off before hurrying him onto the gangplank of a small ship behind Gon. Apparently it's the fastest (and most expensive) ship in port.

"Where exactly are we going?" Killua asks, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He'd planned on slipping away before they got on. What if the ship takes him too far away and Biscuit can't reach him? What if they end up sailing right over his home? What if his family sees him? "Where is Kurapika from?"

Gon laughs good-naturedly, leading Killua below deck away from the chaotic deck. "That's just it, Killua. The location of the real Kurta clan is hidden. They have a public village for trade and contact, but where Kurapika's headed doesn't allow outsiders except in _very_ special circumstances. Like Leorio."

"So then why are we coming?"

Gon shrugs. "The Lukso Province is known for having a good information network. I might be able to catch mention of my dad."

Killua's feels his mouth go dry. "So we're separating?" Which, well…that was his plan in the first place, right? Geez, he needs to make up his mind!

"Yeah." Gon stops and gives Killua a concerned look. "Do you know where you're going, Killua?"

"Yeah." Because well, he does. He knows where he has to end up. "I'll be fine, Gon."


	7. Chapter 7

It's been two hours, and Killua's starting to miss the cart.

Ships are, in a word, boring. Gon assures Killua it doesn't matter whether it's your first time or your fifty-first, most of the journey can be pretty boring in the right company and unbearably boring in the wrong.

"It's even worse if you're not working on the ship," Gon says, mistaking Killua's nerves for restless energy. They're leaning against the ship's railing, Gon peering out to the horizon as Killua watches the water roll off the side of the ship. "You aren't allowed to really go anywhere besides the cabins, the deck, and the mess hall. Plus this ship is pretty small." His face lights up with a sudden idea. "Of course if you climb you can go pretty much anywhere."

"Climb?" Killua asks, finally tearing his eyes away from the water to match Gon's grin.

Sailors start to gather around them within the hour, placing bets on when "the skinny one" will be able to get to the crow's nest.

Killua can climb ropes well before dinner, much to the despair of the majority of sailors. More than half had money on tomorrow. He tries not to preen under the admiring stares of some of the newer sailors, but well…he finds no shortage of irony in the fact that a fish can climb better than half the humans on the boat.

Gon seems a little put-out by how fast Killua catches on, the boy actually managing to beat him twice, but his mood soon improves once he realizes Killua can be a bit overconfident in his talent and is, if anything, a betting man.

By the time they head below deck for dinner, Killua owes Gon half his meal, a pancake from tomorrow's breakfast, and first pick of beds in their cabin.

Leorio ends up contributing most of the conversation at dinner, Gon and Killua being reduced to stealing food off each other's plates in a matter of minutes. He's almost lively now, relax, compared to before. He's even genuinely interested in Killua's recounts of his climbing lessons (or more accurately, he's interested in all the bets Killua spectacularly lost).

Kurapika on the other hand seems to retreat inside himself, barely reacting to much of anything. The prince is almost like a ghost, radiating a sadness and worry that repeals with the intensity of it. He eats dinner robotically and doesn't contribute once to the conversation, leaving more than one awkward silence in his wake when Leorio tries to pull him in.

Killua mentally sighs in relief once Kurapika finishes dinner and silently slips away to who knows where, but then feels bad. Kurapika's his friend…right? The four of them are… friends. At least he, Leorio, and Gon are. Shouldn't they be trying to help? Or at least not let him go off by himself like that?

"Hey," he says, "is he…okay? Shouldn't we…?"

Leorio shrugs and shakes his head. "He's not fine, but he's coping. Kinda. Bracing himself." The doctor leans back in his chair, balancing precariously on the back legs. "Kurapika's what we call 'difficult.' He's someone who needs to vocalize his problems, you know? Physically or externally work through and talk about his feelings, but he refuses and just shoves it down to a place where it festers and rots until…" Leorio shows his closed fist to the two boys, pausing for a moment before he opens it up, "boom. No control on the direction or even the target depending on how long its been cooking.

"But then if you confront him," Leorio continues, a bitter edge leaking in, "he won't talk. He'll either close up or let some of his anger out on you. And this?" He gestures behind him in the general direction the prince left. "It's not just some personal thing. This involves his land. This involves his _people_ , and knowing Kurapika, he's lingering on the worst-case scenario even as we speak. But pressing just isn't going to work. In fact it makes him less likely to talk, the stubborn idiot."

Leorio runs an agitated hand over his face. "We just have so hope he'll trust us with what's eating him, or that he explodes before we get there. I don't think anything's wrong, but if it is…I'd hate to be the guys who dared to screw with the Kurta Clan."

The conversation dies after that, the three of them silently stewing in their thoughts, before Leorio idly asks how Killua's feet are doing (fine, better than on land actually), but there's no recovering the easy mood from earlier. Leorio continues ask about his health, but when Killua's responses deteriorate into one-word answers, they all head to bed, the silent worry for Kurapika weighing them down.

Killua peers at Gon through the dim light, perching on the side of his bed. He hesitates before asking, "Is it really okay?" He wonders if it's okay for him to be concerned in the first place when he won't be there for the outfall. He wonders if it's okay if he leaves without saying goodbye. He wonders if Gon can catch the underlying meaning in his words.

Gon shakes his head. "Not really, but Leorio's right. Kurapika doesn't really talk to us about the important stuff. Tomorrow though…" He nods to himself. "Tomorrow'll be better."

_> <(((x> <x)))><_

Killua wakes up the next morning with a black cloud hanging over his head. It's late morning. Gon's already left, and he can hear people moving outside his cabin. Nothing unusual…so what's with the feeling in his gut?

Slowly he gets up, carefully stretching his muscles out as he listens to the people, but it's just the common chatter of tired sailors switching shifts. No mentions of any obstacles or troubles.

 _Relax._ Killua takes a deep breath. Humans don't have instincts as finally tuned as a Zoldyck. Just because he has a bad feeling doesn't mean it's accurate anymore. What possible danger could go unnoticed by this many people? _Gon…he's exceptionally perceptive for a human. Maybe he feels it too._

 _Biscuit!_ He almost jumps with the impact of the idea. _She'll know. She might even be able to help._

The boy exits his cabin and jogs up to the deck. Everyone's going about their business, everyone's the same as usual. The sky outside is blue and clear, and the breeze is perfect for smooth sailing.

 _Too perfect._ It makes the hair on the back of Killua's neck stand up, and he _knows_ there's just…something's _wrong_. Really wrong, and he can't tell if it's his body malfunctioning on him again or something around him, but he's scared.

He moves towards the railing, taking care not to look suspicious. "Biscuit?" he whispers, venturing into one of the less busy areas on deck. "Biscuit?"

That feeling triples in size when he waits a few minutes receives no answer.

"Biscuit?!" he hisses, leaning over the side to peer into the water. Nothing. " _Biscuit_!"

Where was she? Was something blocking the sea witch? Ice shot down his spine. What if he just couldn't hear her? What if this was permanent? How was he supposed to get back if he couldn't talk to her?

Killua runs down to the mess hall. There are a few late eaters and stragglers there, sailors who want an extra moment to relax before working or heading to bed, but Killua slows down, trying to appear inconspicuous. He grabs a cup and dunks it into the ship's clean water supply before leaving again, heading to an empty hallway.

"Biscuit!" he hisses into the cup. "Biscuit! I'm ready! Let's go! I need that stupid potion." Killua sits down, slouches over the cup, his lips almost touching the rim. A sense of urgency nearly makes him sick to his stomach, and he feels what little control he has over his fear slip as his voice rises to a panicked shout. "Come on! Answer! _Biscuit!_ "

The ship violently rocks forward, sending the glass out of Killua's hand. He tumbles into the opposite wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the hit, and the familiar taste of blood fills his mouth. His own blood. He barely as anytime to right himself as the ship rolls again, tossing him like a rag doll against the wall back first.

The impact rattles his bones. Killua coughs and crouches down onto his hands and knees, curling in on himself. He hears other people groaning and cursing and moving about, but he stays crouched, Grandpa Zeno's lessons kicking his mind into gear.

He's at about the midpoint of the hallway. Behind him are the mess hall and the shattered remains of the plastic cup, the broken edges looking just as sharp as any glass shard. Ahead he can see the stairs up to the deck. _There,_ something tells him. That's where he as to go.

Well, apparently his instincts haven't been wrong yet today.

Killua takes a moment to brace himself before sprinting towards the exit. He only makes it four steps before the ship resumes its rampage, knocking him to the ground, but he forces himself back up and continues forward blindly.

Trying to get out of the hallway is a disaster. His cheeks are smashed off the ground, and his limbs are reduced to little more than shields to protect the more vulnerable parts of his body. He looses direction fast. It feels like learning to walk again, expect the pain is everywhere instead of retained to his feet.

Killua gasps as a momentary respite lets him come to a rest on the ground, panting from the effort of trying to protect himself. His head feels rattled, and the whole world seems to be spinning. Numbly he reaches to touch the back of his skull to feel for blood and pushes himself up onto his knees. He hears far-off screams—was it Leorio? Kurapika? Gon? He's barely had time to hope they're okay— and stumbles down the hall towards the stairs, managing a few precious feet before the ships surges left, pitching him hard against the wall. This time he actively fights for a direction, goal in mind and target in sight, twisting his body so the ship throws him towards the stairs.

There are multiple misfires that send Killua headfirst into walls, but he manages to grab the stairs and crawl up to the deck, using his deadly nails for the first time in weeks to claw into the doorframe and make sure he's not flung back down the stairs.

Taking a moment to catches his breath, Killua looks out over the deck.

What once was a clear day has become the thing of nightmares. The sky is dark as ink, only momentary flashes of lightening breaking the blackness and showing the true chaos unfolding before him. Tinted water sloshes over the edges, drenching the deck. The flapping of the ripped sails can barely be heard over wind hollowing like a wounded beast. Killua has to keep blinking rain out of his eyes to see.

With a jolt he realizes there's no one up here. _Swept off the ship,_ his mind supplies as the wind grabs at Killua's clothes. But who? Who was up here when the storm hit? For the life of him he can't remember one face. Had Leorio been up here and gone unnoticed? Had Kurapika been brooding farther down the railing? Had Gon ( _oh god no)_ been up in the crow's nest? On the ropes? Looking for Killua?

" _Gon?!_ " Killua screams. "Leorio!? Kurapika!?" He risks removing one hand from the doorframe to wipe the water from his face, but does nothing to improve his vision. Even without the water running into his eyes it's impossible to see barely two feet in front of him. Hell, he can hardly _hear_ over the storm.

The ship heaves beneath him. Killua feels rather than hears the wooden frame splitter as his body is shoved forward, his legs swept out from underneath him, his shoulder screaming in pain as its roughly jerked to a stop by the grip of his claws in the breaking wood. He glances up, pulls himself back into the doorway, and squints through the rain to see the damage done to the frame.

It's half gone. Most of his right hand is exposed, the tips of his fingers and claws barely staying embedded in the collapsing frame. If the ship so much as trembles, he'll be shaken free, thrown off the side and into the ocean.

Killua feels a laugh bubbling up. A storm will kill him? These used to be nothing to him. Hell, they were _fun_. A roller coaster of sea currents that broke the mundane. Now it makes him feel small, insignificant. A bug waiting to be smashed on the surface of the sea. Oh, but it's not just the sea that can kill. There're the supplies and the mast and the splintering wood. The wind and the rain that could still kill him even if he survives the initial storm, his body shutting down due to cold and bacteria who knows what else and—

Why did he want to be human again? Why did he wait so long to talk to Biscuit?

And then he hears it. A voice that carries over the raging disaster clear as a bell, inhuman and high.

"Kil."

Killua's knees go weak in fear, and ice claws at his insides. The storm raging around him doesn't even compare to the calm, collected creature staring at him from the railing on his right, completely unaffected by the chaos as his eyes cut through the rain to stare directly into Killua.

"Illumi…"

His brother cocks his head to the side, expression unchanging. "Kil? Mom's been worried, you know. Dad said you'd be back in a week."

Killua takes a shaky step back. Freezes. "Ah…" He swallows.

Illumi holds up his hand, showing Killua…something. He can't make out what it is, but it's small and fits easily into his brother's hand. "Come on, Kil. You need to stop fooling around. I have your cure. You're going home."

"But…how?" It can't…it's a lie, right? He knows— _remembers_ Biscuit's complaining, her nagging about time and circumstances and attachments he shouldn't be making. She never shut up about the preciseness of the potion needed to change him back and fix his tail.

But she wasn't answering his calls earlier. Was she silent the last few days making Killua's cure for Illumi?

"I also got this storm." Illumi looks up at the sky with mild interest, his expression allowing his mouth to twitch just the slightest. "There're already so many humans in the ocean you can eat to get your strength back, Kil. Here." He extends his hand with the potion out to his brother, oblivious to Killua's struggle to stay up right, let alone move onto the deck to the railing. Killua wonders if Illumi even realizes exactly how weak his body is now. It'd be a miracle for Killua to even make it two steps without being thrown to his death. Hadn't Biscuit said something about him swimming too?

"Killua!"

He'salivehe'saliveohman—

"Gon!?" Killua turns around, clinging tighter to the doorframe, bracing himself for an illusion, but he's there. Gon's really there, struggling against the bald dude with a scar in the hallway. "Killua!" He almost manages to break away as the ship heaves again, but the man keeps his grip firm on Gon's arm, a bruise already forming from the pressure.

There's a loud crack as the frame rips free. The ground disappears from underneath Killua. He wonders if Gon heard it with that freaky hearing of his, if he'd hear Killua if he screamed a goodbye.

" _Killua_!"

Probably not.

His body is flung towards Illumi, but his brother lets him fly right passed, watching apathetically as Killua plummets down the side of the ship and into the ocean. For the first time in his life, Killua can feel the rage of the sea, the biting cold, the swirling waves that toss him every way. He tries to open his eyes, only to have the salt burn them. He tries to flap his limbs like he'd seen Gon do before, but his body continues to fall down, down into a continually crushing sea.

A piercing pain stabs Killua through the forehead, hot and white. He screams, water rushing down his throat, suffocation closing in. Convulsions begin to rush down his body. His head becomes dizzy. He's only dimly aware of someone's arm closing around his waist, dragging him up, back towards the air his lungs are desperately screaming for.

For a brief moment, Killua's head breaks the surface, gasping, and spitting for all of one second—is that someone screaming for him? Is that— before he's pulled out of his savior's grip back under the waves.

Then, suddenly, Killua can see. His body stops shaking. His throat begins to burn, fire raging and blistering and choking and scalding to an unrecognizable degree. It's impossible to tell if he's simply drowning or combusting from the inside out.

Illumi bends over his brother, his figure a looming, threatening shadow hanging above Killua. His black hair fans out around him, blocking Killua's view of the faint light flickering above him where the surface is. Illumi's hands cradle Killua face gently in the churning water, brushing gently over his neck and forehead as he frowns in confusion. Killua claws at him and kicks his legs to propel himself up, but it seems all his efforts do is send him further down.

"Interesting…" Illumi mutters. "Hisoka made this only two days ago, and yet you've already rebelled this much. Dad and I taught you better."

Killua doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. Did his brother really think this was an act of rebellion? An attempt to grasp a future free of his family? Were they all so unaware of their power, the shadows they cast that hung over Killua his whole human experience? If his brother had only waited an hour, a day, Killua would have been back, accepting and pleasant.

(Right? He would have come back.)

But interpreting simple curiosity for rebellion…that means Killua's sure to be punished when he gets home.

Something soft is thrust onto Killua's mouth, its scent shoving it's way into his nose. The smell of blood makes his stomach growl, roaring for a taste, and he wastes little time sinking his teeth into the piece of flesh offered, gulping the chunk down greedily. For the first time, he doesn't gag. It sits in his stomach like a fact, neither good nor bad, and the burning in his throat recedes slightly.

"Was that so bad?" Illumi says. His voice is supposed to be comforting, but the tone doesn't sit right in his mouth, like he's speaking around shards of glass. "If you'd only waited for your body to adjust, Kil. Sometimes the sickness happens at first, but you get used to it soon enough. Then you begin to love it. If you just come back—"

Illumi glances back, glaring at something Killua can't see, but by the naked disgust slowly taking over his brother's face, he can make an educated guess. His chest squeezes in fear.

"Someone's interfering. Maybe if I just kill him here—"

 _No!_ Killua swipes at the Zoldyck's face, drawing a long, red line across his cheek, and feels satisfaction for all of three exhilarating seconds. But then Illumi looks back at him, his face wiped of all emotion, and Killua suddenly remembers his brother is a Zoldyck, the most powerful predator in the ocean, and Killua is his prey, a human.

"Are you going to attack me, Kil?" Illumi leans in close, his face that of a monster. Killua wonders if his face used to look like that. Maybe it still can look like that. "Go ahead. Fight me. Let's see who wins."

Fear pollutes Killua's body. Tremors return to his body. He can' t move, can't even shake his head.

But Illumi doesn't gloat. Doesn't laugh, doesn't smile. No, he leans in close and whispers, "Remember, Kil. Zoldyck's do not have friends. You are, no matter how you appear, a Zoldyck, and that's all you'll ever be. Someday, you'll understand and return to us. After all, how can a fish survive among humans?"

And he's gone, abandoning Killua back to the chaos of the sea, letting him sink and choke and drown—

Gon appears above him, reaching. Killua reaches back, kicking vainly to grab onto the outstretched hand, feeling his body shut down on him, watching his vision begin to cloud over, and he doesn't think he'll be able to grab hold before he's swallowed by the blackness.

Everything fades away until Killua's only aware of two things. The first is that he's only been in the water twice since becoming human, and both times he almost drowned. He decides he hates the ocean.

The second is Gon grabbing his hand, hauling him up, and slipping his arm around his waist as he pulls him up towards the light. From Killua's viewpoint, the light encompasses Gon, highlights him in all his glory, and Killua feels a tug of something deep in his chest.

Before Killua can touch the light, darkness closes in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last chapter of the year. Thank you to all of you who've read this up til now and left kudos and comments. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!


	8. Chapter 8

Gon feels Killua go limp in his arms as he breaks the surface, the blazing sun blinding him after the murky ocean lighting. He grunts, beginning to sink under the sudden deadweight, but to his surprise he manages to keep both their heads _and_ shoulders above the water.

Situating Killua more comfortably in his arms, Gon finds himself more than a little suspicious with the lack of pain in his body. His legs feel fine, almost soothed in the water instead of the heavy, weighted pain he remembers from fighting against the waves. Logic dictates he should be struggling to keep afloat with Killua's unconscious body, but if anything he finds it effortless.

Squinting Gon looks over the sea for any hint of the ship, but it's just endless blue. He silently curses. Before jumping off, he'd grabbed a rope on his way to the railing, desperately hoping it was tied to the ship, but it hadn't mattered once he hit the water. The sheer force of the unnatural waves tore it right out of his hands. If that isn't enough to prove the storm's magic origins, its sudden disappearance more than speaks for itself. The sea can be destructive on its own, but that had been beyond anything Gon had ever felt. He can still feel his skin prickling from the sharp slap of the abnormal waves.

_I didn't smell it approaching either_ , Gon thinks, frustrated. He _always_ senses storms. His instincts are unmatched. Leorio's half convinced he's part animal, and Kurapika's asked more than once if Gon was cursed. It _has_ to be magic, the only thing Gon can't pick up on with his nose.

( _Ging could have probably sensed it_.)

Gon shakes his head and focuses his thoughts.

The storm was magic. That means someone powerful is after Killua. Storms are high level stuff. Potions can have some near impossible effects, but when it comes down to it, that magic is still concentrated on one person and only one. Its power is centered on one thing. Weather involves a million tiny things. For the storm they just had, a witch needs to not just influence the sea and the wind, but violently and continuously disturb multiple subtle elements at once. Even if someone can find a witch powerful enough to make a storm, the price would be astronomical.

So why spend all that money to target Killua? They just wasted a fortune on a storm that didn't even kill him. Sure, he can't swim, but it's much easier to hire a hit man to just push him off the side when no one's looking. And for a second—a very brief second—Gon thought he felt bloodlust when he was diving for his friend. So someone got a monster on top of a storm. No way a creature would be lingering that close to a ship unless it knew the storm was coming. So that means the monster failed for some reason.

Does that mean _Killua_ force the monster away? But with what? Even with those claws of his it's not like he could use them in the water. But if he had help from another magical source…

Gon stops treading water. Sure enough the sea continues to keep them afloat, and he finally notices they've actually been drifted forward slowly. He turns his attention towards the horizon. Sure enough he can see the ship, a small dot in the distance but undeniably there.

This isn't the same person who started the storm. It has to be a different force acting on them now, someone on Killua's side. Maybe they even stopped the storm. Sure, it's not as hard to stop a storm as it is to stat one, but that doesn't mean it's easy. For whoever-it-is to be supporting them in the water, let alone propelling them towards the ship, is amazing.

Unless Killua's the one moving them and someone else stopped the storm.

Gon looks down at his friend. He's still unconscious, so no magic-working here, but Gon keeps staring at his face, frowning. It doesn't look any different from a normal human's face. The only unique thing—and Killua would kill Gon if he ever told him this— is that, frankly…he has a pretty face. Attractive. Nothing magic-worthy obviously, and if Gon hadn't seen his claws before he'd never have guessed his friend isn't completely normal. But even if the claws are of magical origins— _Killua's_ origins— there's no way someone would go to all this trouble to kill him unless Killua's important somehow—

A faint shout reaches Gon's ears. "… _see someone! I see someone!_ "

Gon snaps out of his thoughts and looks away from his friend. They're back.

They can't have been gone for more than ten minutes— fifteen tops— but a small rescue boat containing two sailors is lowered to retrieve them. So either the captain is a particularly skilled man that managed to quickly and efficiently organize his crew or they don't have may people to deal with in the first place.

It's also possible the excitement of finding someone alive is making them organize faster. It'll be awhile before they decide on the number of fatalities. There's always hope that someone will resurface, that word will travel of a survivor washing up on a beach. They'll linger in calm waters for thirty minutes, maybe an hour if the captain is sentimental, but time is of the essence, and the magic nature of the storm will be making everyone edgy. Finding a survivor raises morale.

When their rescuers reach them, Gon hands Killua over first, helping the men steady the boat while they haul his unconscious body over the side. The moment his friend leaves the water, Gon expects it to stop supporting him, but it doesn't. It even gives him a little boost up when he climbs in.

He mouths a thank you to the water when the other boat's occupants aren't looking.

Predictably it's Leorio who jumps on them as soon as they touch down on deck, insisting on a check up right there—"I've treated everyone else on this damn boat. Give me _somethin_ g to do"— and sending off a sailor to get them dry clothes. He gives Gon a rundown of the situation as he goes about his examination, fingers deftly skimming over joints and bones for damage.

"They're figuring they lost about a fifth of the crew in the initial hit. About a fourth of 'em went over along with a few passengers that decided to get some fresh air, but a lot of people came up once the waves calmed." Leorio shrugs. "A lot compared to the usual rate of survivors that go overboard anyway. The worse of what we got on board are some broken bones from slamming into walls and a few superficial cuts from forks and knives. " He taps his head right next to his own faintly pink bandage. "Nothing I can't handle. One or two though…their necks or heads just hit at the wrong angle and… no doctor can do anything for that. They're down near the mess hall while we sort things out." Gon notices Leorio swallow uncomfortably, his troubled eyes betraying his conversational, doctor-trained tone. "The crews been muttering about funerals, but no one really knows what to do with them.

"It's weird, though," Leorio continues, moving over to Killua once he's satisfied with Gon. "Besides the supplies significantly dropping, the ship doesn't have much damage. For all the rocking it did, you'd think something would have snapped off! Obviously it wasn't a normal storm, and they're asking people about old grudges n' such, but the target most likely went over—

"…Huh…"

Gon frowns. "What?"

"His skin." Leorio waves Gon over with his free hand, his other gently prodding Killua's neck. "Feel."

Carefully Gon lowers his fingers onto his friend's neck and pushes down where his pulse should be. It's like pushing on solid rock. For a brief minute, he's terrified that Killua's dead, died right in his arms at sea (there's no pulse _where's his pulse_ ) but logic hits him square in the gut when his brain finally starts to work. It hasn't even been an hour. Rigor mortis can begin fairly early, but it shouldn't be this extreme yet. And Killua's warm. If the sea killed him, he should be cold and clammy and not a normal body temperature.

Plus he can smell magic all over his friend's body. Something must have happened to him down in the water that made him like this.

Gon let his fingers move from Killua's neck up along his face, lightly poking all the way. There's the slightest give near the top of his cheek, but Killua seems to be made of stone now. It doesn't even feel like skin. He swipes his hand back down Killua's check, pushing on in with his palm, marveling at how warm the tough texture feels—

"What are you doing?"

Gon smiles down at Killua, not at all embarrassed to be found basically caressing the other boy's check. "Your skin feels cool."

"Don't move," Leorio demands, shouldering Gon out of his way. "How are you feeling? How's your head?" He holds up two fingers. "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?"

Killua huffs and answers (correctly, both Gon and Leorio are relieved to hear) but Leorio continues the usual questioning that goes with diagnosing head injuries. He actually goes above and beyond, thoroughly ensuring Killua's not hurt before letting him sit up and take a sip of water.

"So—"

"Dr. Paladiknight! We need you in Cabin Two right away! My husband—"

"Got it!" Leorio swallows his concern for the two water-logged boys and stands up to do his job, making a face when his joints crack. He stretches out his back and looks at Gon seriously. "Go below deck, change into dry clothes," he shoots an irritated glance down the deck. The sailor he sent off never did come back, "and huddle under the blankets in your cabin. I don't recommending eating anything until tomorrow, and only take small sips of water when you drink. Do _not_ down the whole thing in one gulp. Got it?"

"Yeah," the boys intone.

"I'll be down to check on you," Leorio warns before rushing off.

Gon stands up slowly, making sure of his steadiness before turning to help Killua, but his friend's already up, waiting patiently for Gon.

_Something's definitely happened,_ Gon decides as he follows Killua below deck. The way his friend's moving…he's much more steady on deck, much more solid. He corrects his center of gravity and feet before the ship even moves and walks so smoothly he seems to be gliding across the wood. Oddly enough these things that would make anyone else seem surreal makes Killua seem so much more real now, more there.

Their room is in decent shape, the only real casualty being Killua's bag. It burst open sometime during the storm and left his clothes spread around the cabin, but somehow Gon's remained intact if not a little beat up. Blankets and pillows are scattered along the ground as well, but the mattresses and bed frames are still in place even if the wood is splintered around the nails holding them to the ground.

Gon goes to his bag and pulls out a black tank, his extra green jacket, and shorts. Basically the same thing he was wears everyday. He's never really understood why people tended to prefer different kinds and colors of clothes. It just makes laundry take all the longer. Plus his usual outfit is easy to change into, which means he's dressed and perched on his bed with a glass of water long before Killua even has his shirt off.

Killua has his back turned to Gon when he finally starts to change, and Gon watches curiously as his friend starts to peel the wet fabric off his skin, slowly revealing his pale back. After staring at him for a few moments, Gon realizes he can see white, deliberate claw marks criss-crossing from the shoulder blades all the way down his spine, disappearing under his shorts.

It's not unusual for strong predator animals to claw and injure their young in the name of training, but right now Gon can't remember any off the top of his head that would have a high enough level of intelligence to be able to make a deal with a witch. Of course there still is a chance Killua is actually human…

"Hey, Killua?"

"Hm?"

"Are you human?"

Killua glances over his shoulder at Gon, expression cool as ever, and shrugs, pulling on a dry, dark red tank. "Originally? No."

"What were you then?" Gon asks. He takes a sip of water and makes a face at the glass. What is… is that salt he tastes?

"A Zoldyck."

Gon feels the impulse to smack himself in the forehead. Of course! _Zoldyck_! They were notorious for how harshly they treated their young compared to most other animals. It was one of the few things researches managed to conclude before the species disappeared.

"Your family too?"

Killua pauses half way into his shirt and turns around to give Gon an unreadable look.

Then he laughs, pulling his shirt the rest of the way up and flopping down next to Gon on the bed. "You believe me?" he chuckles. "Zoldycks are supposed to be extinct you know!"

"But you're telling the truth." Gon takes another sip of the faintly salty water before passing it to Killua, who's giving him that unreadable look again.

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Gon looks at Killua curiously, searching for any hint of fins or gills or other fish-like attributes, but nothing. Besides Killua's tough skin, the spell making him human holds strong. "Why are the Zoldycks pretending to be extinct?"

"Mm." Killua accepts the cup but doesn't take a drink. He leans back against the wall, angling his body towards Gon as he stares somewhere above his head, serious. "Zoldycks are predators by nature. We aren't stupid like _some_ humans who know we eat them and dive down to the bottom of the ocean trying to 'observe us in our natural habitat.'" He makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "So we went 'extinct' as far as humans were concerned, went underground, and became this big secret and had to learn to be sneaky when getting dinner."

"Do you only eat humans or—"

Their eyes meet. "I've been trained since birth to kill humans." Killua's eyes flicker back to overhead. "I'm supposed to be the new family head, one of the best in years according to my parents, but… I don't really want to. It's just not for me." Gon notices Killua's talking to himself just as much as he's talking to Gon. "I'd like to decide what I'm going to do, y'know?"

For a moment, Killua looks vulnerable. Vulnerable and exposed and open and Gon feels like he's being trusted with something unspeakably precious.

But the look disappears under something more exasperated as Killua looks at Gon with an annoyed frown. "I try to take a week or two off and apparently my family goes insane and sends my brother after me! Even though I was going to go back soon!" Killua sighs and lets his upper body fall sideways onto the bed, shutting his eyes. "So I'm just going to stay here longer then," he huffs boldly.

Gon nods and smiles, thinking about how Killua had tried to act all cool and nonchalant about wanting to come with them and failed spectacularly.

It looks like it's the end of the conversation when Killua closes his eyes and relaxes into the mattress. Gon gets up to clean the room, but then he hears Killua's soft voice behind him. "I'll go back, just…not now." He cracks an eye open and looks at Gon. "I like being human."

"Well I like having you around." Gon beams happily at Killua, not noticing the near transparent blush that springs to the tops of his cheeks. "You don't have anywhere you want to go, right? Come with me once we get to Lukso. You can stay until you leave. Okay?"

"…Sure." Killua rolls over to face the wall, his voice indifferent, but Gon thinks he can see a small smile on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

Killua isn't surprised when only fifteen-odd minutes are spent searching for survivors before the ship moves on despite passengers' protests. In his experience humans who spend most of their time on the sea know when to cut their losses, and the sailors are no exception. Those who are unfamiliar with the ocean however…

The four of them stay in their rooms after a hurried dinner and don't dare step outside once the shouting starts, occupying themselves with a game of cards. Eventually someone knocks on their door and summons Leorio to come treat the results of a fight: two unconscious men— one sailor and one passenger— a broken nose, and a shattered hand. The mess hall is deemed off-limits until all the food and blood can be cleaned. Killua spends the whole night with the smell of blood lodged in his throat, choking him in his dreams and far into the gray hours of the morning. If Gon notices the bags under his eyes, he doesn't say a word.

The tension from that second day remains the whole trip, coating the deck in a heavy pressure. Passengers stay below deck to avoid the crew, and the crew follows suit above. No one talks to strangers. Only Gon, Killua, Leorio, and Kurapika are exceptions, but even they aren't impervious to the weighty atmosphere. Gon and Killua stay quiet and only talk to the crew if they have to, climbing in areas sailors aren't busy. Leorio, being a doctor, doesn't care about the awkward stiffness of his patient as long as he can treat them, and Kurapika somehow strikes up a friendship with the captain. It's clear that out of everyone on the ship, they're the only ones to have even the slightest regret when they finally see Lukso on the fifth day out to sea, the weather damp and muggy.

The group of four lingers on the deck. They're traveling for a bit longer, splitting at the edge of town, but now seems like the time for goodbyes, surrounded by the crowd of anxious passengers and eager sailors. No one is sure what to say, the group stuck between convenient acquaintance and friendship.

Kurapika speaks first. "I have your number, Gon. We…I'll find a way let you know when I find out anything, okay?"

"We can all meet up again in a couple months," Leorio suggests. "That'll give us all enough time to make sure everything's okay, yeah?" He pats Kurapika's back reassuringly, but Killua notices he leaves his hand there when the prince leans into it. He finds himself watching them more often, almost jealous of how close they are, how easy they are around each other even if they bicker every hour on the hour without fail.

With a jolt he realizes he's staring and quickly redirects his eyes, accidentally meeting Leorio's before he looks out over into port. It's not as crowded as he thought it'd be, and it's a bit dumpy, but apparently it's the closest town to Kurapika's hidden clan. Of course they aren't exactly there to sightsee. Not that any of them could forget their original reason for getting on the boat when Kurapika had become more sullen and hostile by day.

"Killua?" Leorio grabs his shoulder to hold him back as Gon and Kurapika descend the gangplank. "Come with me. One more check up before we go."

Killua wants to roll his eyes, shrug the old man off, and go after Gon, but there's something tight in Leorio's face. Hard. It's not a request but a command, and for one ridiculous moment a growl begins to build in the back of the Zoldyck's throat at the threat in Leorio's posture.

And then the moment passes, leaving Killua feeling guilty as he meekly follows Leorio away from Gon, shoving those invasive instincts as far from his mind as possible.

Leorio goes through his usual routine for check-ups hollowly, clearly stalling for time as he makes sure they're alone. They both know Killua's fine. More than fine. It surprises Killua how much strength is in his body ever since he came face-to-face with Illumi. His instincts feel sharper, his steps feel more grounded despite the familiar, constantly stabbing pain, and he knows for a fact he would've been able to take Palm in a fight if he had felt like this back when they were sparing. He feels like a predator. Powerful. He feels like a Zoldyck again.

He really needs to talk to Biscuit.

"Why are you here?"

Killua jumps. "Hmm?"

"Why are you here?" Leorio demands. He's doing that thing where he's trying to be threatening again, and Killua feels a small smirk to twist his lips as he leans back, regarding the doctor coolly.

"What do you mean?"

The small first-aid kit snaps closed sharply. "You're not human. Not anymore, if you ever where in the first place. Magic's slipped or worn out." Leorio looks at him over his glasses, voice low and more serious than Killua thought possible for the man. "So I want to know why you're here and why you're sticking so close to Gon." He straightens his back and looks down at Killua with a superior air, scowling. "Does it have to do with his father?"

"What would his dad have to do with anything?" Killua says, an edge to his voice. "I'm here just to be here, okay?"

"No, it's not okay! You could be anything!" Leorio snaps, Killua's temper igniting his own. "I'm not going to let Gon go off with you if you're some murderous animal hell-bent on killing—"

Killua grabs Leorio's shirtfront, his mouth pulled back in a silent growl. Instinct rears its ugly head in an unfamiliar rush, and he can feel blood rushing under his fingertips, can smell all that blood just there for the taking— _kill him now_ —

Leorio tenses for attack, his hand twitching towards the switchblade in his pocket.

Killua falters. Leorio might have been silently threatening him for the last few minutes, but Killua didn't think the man would actually take out his weapon againsthim.

…Of course he would. Killua must look like the spitting image of the monster Leorio thinks he is.

"I would _never._ Hurt Gon," Killua says firmly, not even looking at Leorio as he talks. "I didn't come here for Gon, so…I…" His shoulders slump, and he keeps his eyes locked on the deck as he mutters, "Let me stay with him until I leave. I'll be gone in a week and out of all your hair forever. I just want to stay here." With Gon.

After a stiff minute, Leorio shakes his head and leans back, body relaxing into his usual posture. His hand drops away from his pocket. Killua feels like he can breathe again.

"Can't believe Gon's picked up another stray," Leorio sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm not a stray," Killua says defensively. A stray implies he needs to be taken care of, which he does _not_. He's of age! A _man_! He's killed and eaten people.

Leorio ruffles Killua's hair, making it even messier. "All Gon's friends are strays."

"I'm his friend?"

Leorio gapes at Killua, who stares in surprise right back. "Are you kidding?" Killua mumbles a half-hearted explanation. "You guys have been friends for days! Kid jumped in the ocean for you. Shoved off the guy holding him down and went overboard like it was nothing." Leorio pats Killua's back. "It's no sweat! I guarantee Gon thinks of you as his friend."

There's no hint of any lies in Leorio's face. He's completely earnest, looking at Killua with an unlimited openness that's frankly absurd. Anyone so sincere is a fool just asking to be taken advantage of, but for a handful of heartbeats Killua's glad Leorio can be such a passionate idiot. Something in his chest unwinds just the slightest bit and warms him, and for the first time since seeing Illumi Killua feels like he's himself again.

"Come on. Let's go."

_(((^ ^)))_

Kurapika and Leorio accompany Gon and Killua halfway to…wherever they're going. Gon still isn't being too clear on the destination. They spilt up on the edge of town, a promise made to meet up in about a year or so if Gon doesn't hear anything from them. Kurapika sounds less than optimistic about the idea, but the plan is made. Leorio won't hear a word otherwise.

Leorio offers Killua another "reassuring" hair ruffle before he leaves. Killua refuses to acknowledge the feeling of loneliness that descends as he and Gon continue down the road, Leorio and Kurapika's bickering fading until the whistle of the wind is left.

Gon and Killua travel north with nothing but bags full of clothes that smell faintly of salt and two bags of potato chips. They climb on the rocks lining the road, playing eye spy off and on for a few hours before they stop to split the chips for "lunch." The last two hours are spent fooling around with Gon's fishing rod seeing what they can catch while they switch between walking and jogging. Killua quits playing after Gon effortlessly catches a bird, but no matter what Gon says, Killua does _not_ sulk the final five miles to Xen.

The town's gate is a modest one: two well-kept stone obelisks with the city's name and the word "welcome" carved into them in every known language. Gon and Killua barely acknowledge them as they pass through, but the moment their feet touch down over the town line, the heavy pressure of magic presses in on them.

Killua physically stumbles under the feeling, grunting in surprise, but nothing happens. No booby traps, no guards…rather the weight just hangs in the air like a fog, prickling Killua's skin uncomfortably.

Gon wrinkles his nose and sneezes, shivering. "We're in the right place," he tells Killua, leading him further into the town.

There are much less children in Xen than in Zaban—Gon and Killua are easily the youngest people walking down the street— and a respectful, scholarly quiet hovers over the city. Humans pass by with bowed heads and absentminded steps, their thoughts clearly circling elsewhere. It seems like a miracle every time one of them just barely misses running into a building or stepping into the street as they turn a rare corner.

Killua studies the crowd carefully as they walk, grasping for the needling thought forming as he peers carefully at each distracted face. He figures it out with a jolt of inspiration as he passes a woman with skin light as his own: they all look completely different from one another. In Zaban everyone had the same dark hair and skin, same slim nose. They were unmistakably humans that belonged in Zaban, but the people of Xen have nothing in common. Skin, facial features, body type…it's a city of strangers.

Or it should be a city of strangers. If Killua peers into shop windows he can see laughter and friends, and he notices people offer a slight incline of their head as they pass one another almost absentmindedly, as if the action is ingrained in them.

Killua also notes despite the heavy feeling of magic in the air, the threat that usually accompanies it is completely absent.

"This place is weird."

"It's a city of scholars," Gon says. "We're here."

Killua gapes at the largest human building he's ever seen. It stretches straight up into the sky and disappears above the clouds, the paint wearing thinner with each level. Two detailed stone lions twice Killua's side sit on either side of the entrance, their mouths opened in an eternal roar.

"It's the seventh tallest building in the world," Gon tells him, grinning at the awed expression on Killua's face.

" _Seventh!?_ "

"Yeah, just barely. It's the tallest one not made of steel."

Inside is much less awe-inspiring. Book shelves as far as the eye can see, stretching across every available surface, even along the walls of stairs and under the receptionist's desk. Killua thinks the proper name for it is a library. He separates from Gon to look closer at the shelves, recognizing the letters of Gon's language on many of the books' spines, but there are still a good number of books that have symbols he's never seen before. Different languages.

"—to the left."

"Thanks." Gon nudges Killua towards the stairs, snapping him out of his daze. Even if he found the outside more interesting, it doesn't mean the inside still isn't impressive in its own right. "Come on."

Killua follows after Gon up the stairs, keeping a step behind him. He studies the books as they pass, watching the language shift from section to section, sometimes mixing together in a confusing pattern. At one point they pass through a brightly-colored section with thinner books that have titles Killua can piece together if he concentrates hard enough, but nearly every other book in the building has titles he can't even dream of understanding. He's positive not even native speakers can read half the titles.

The higher they climb the thicker the books get, and they stop at a floor where all the familiar letters disappeared in favor of hard, sharp symbols etched into old leather spines worn from use. The few people they pass look as old as the books, and the woman sitting at the section's help desk looks older.

"Hi," Gon says.

The woman looks at him blankly offers a garbled sound in response.

An unfamiliar language spills out of Gon's mouth that reminds Killua of a baby's nonsense babble before it actually learns real words, but the woman's face lights up in understanding. She waves her hand right and responds in that same baby babble while Killua tries to mask his confusion.

He shifts his weight awkwardly when the lady keeps talking—are they even discussing directions anymore?— and ends up wishing he pushed his grand vacation to the human world back a few years until after he learned all human languages, or at least until he learned how to read. Some of the books they passed actually looked interesting.

Boredom overtakes him quickly as he watches the silent occupants of the library that sit like statues at their respective tables. Killua almost jumps when a short, child-sized figure moves out of the bookshelves and into his sight, breaking the stillness and bringing with her an uncomfortably suffocating feeling. The kid, a girl if her giant pigtails are anything to go by, almost seems like a dream as she walks down towards the closest table to Killua, her feet gliding smoothly over the tile, the glass of water in her hands not even shaking with the impact of her steps.

It's not until the child glances up and makes eye contact that Killua that he realizes why she feels so unsettling.

Biscuit. Or someone who looks exactly like her.

Killua's hand shoots out to grab Gon, but he stops himself half way there, leaving it hanging between them as Biscuit holds his eyes, presenting her free hand palm up in an unmistakable sign of peace. He relaxes his body, but leaves his hand outstretched towards Gon.

The sea witch's clone rolls her eyes as she mutters under her breath. Killua feels a ripple pass through his body like a wave from the feet up, pleasant until it hits his forehead. Pain explodes in his skull. He hisses a gasp of pain from between his teeth, his knees giving out as he presses his hands to his eyes. Behind him, Gon and the woman don't react, continuing to talk in tongues.

Fake Biscuit clicks her tongue and sets the glass down on the table.

"That's some strong stuff," Biscuit says wonderingly, her voice coming from that familiar distant place. The child says nothing, but her face shows concern as she kneels down in front of Killua and gently touches his forehead. " _Really_ strong. Should've worked." Killua shoves her hand away, but she's not looking at him. Fake Biscuit's looking over his head at Gon. "I never pegged you for the devoted type. You seemed more fickle."

"What are you doing here?" Killua asks, scowling. "Where were you when I needed you? Wasn't there a clause or something in that contract?"

"I was a bit incapacitated at the time," Biscuit retorts harshly. "And, if you haven't noticed, I'm still not actually _here_. By the time I could help you the best I could do was stop the storm and carry you and your human—"

" _My_ human?!"

"—to the ship. I couldn't exactly make a personal appearance after that if I wanted to keep my head. Humans get so trigger-happy after a magic-based attack." Biscuit sighs long and heavy, the glass of water actually trembling with her exasperation. "So here I am to assess the damage."

Fake Biscuit frowns and grabs Killua's chin, jerking his head to the side when he doesn't let her turn it. "Looks like the side-effects are gone—I _told_ you the pain in your legs was a permanent thing, don't give me that look— but that do-hicky did some of its job." She smirks. "It's powerful but lacks a certain understanding of emotion that I have, which batched the whole thing, but you're still less human than before. I'd be careful."

"Can you fix it?"

"Not until you come back, which you aren't yet, so no." Fake Biscuit stands up and puts her hands on her hips. "So since you're staying here, understand that I'm not at your beck and call, got it? You wait till the last minute to leave, you might not be able to change back before the consequences set in, and I'd like a two week's notice—"

"Killua?"

Both sea creatures look up. Gon's staring right at them. Killua opens his mouth to explain, but his friend looks right passed him, eyes lingering on Fake Biscuit for a moment with a dazed expression before he sets off for the bookshelves, softly calling for Killua.

Fake Biscuit extends her hand to finally help Killua off the floor, waving him off towards one of the farther bookshelves. "Remember," she warns, "you call me when you're planning to leave and not a moment sooner, got it? I'm a busy girl you know."

"Hag," Killua mutters.

The sound of breaking glass echoes around the library. Everyone besides Killua jumps. One man even screams in surprise, nearly knocking over his chair as he frantically looks around for the attacker who broke the silence. Killua quickly dashes to the nearest shelf, grabs a book, and tries not to look too suspicious when Gon comes to check out the noise, finally spotting Killua.

The lady Gon had been talking to waves her hand. The glass disappears.

"Hey—"

"Come on, Killua."

Killua follows Gon back down the stairs, but he doesn't stay quiet. He pitches his voice lower and walks closer to Gon, their shoulders pressed warmly together as he whispers. "That was magic, right?"

Gon angles his head towards Killua, their checks nearly touching with each step. "I guess it's what you call magic," Gon says, infuriatingly vague about what _that's_ supposed to mean. "It has a specific name, but most people and magical beasts just lump it under the name of magic when it's actually just a single branch of magic."

Killua frowns. "What?"

"There are specialized branches dealing with decomposition and elements and everything in between. The whole tree is really complicated and takes years to fully comprehend." Gon waves his hand, leading them both off to the right into shelves full of old maps. "Takes even longer to actually use one branch of magic like that woman back there, let alone two or more."

"Huh," Killua mutters, burning with questions. How many branches did Biscuit have to master to make him human? Or was it a branch all itself? And can he find out more from someone other than Gon? (Somehow having the boy explain stuff to him makes him feel uncomfortable. Killua's used to being at the top, and having a human explain this complicated… _thing_ to him bothers his pride more than he wants to admit.)

"I see you've learned a lot, Gon."

"Wing!" Gon runs from Killua's side, leaving his cheek feeling cold without the warmth of Gon's breath.

The man standing among the shelves— Wing— is extremely disheveled. His shirt is untucked and wrinkled, and his hair looks like he just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago. Wing holds himself tall though, and has a very open face. His smile comes easy, and his movements are very relaxed and purposeful as he replaces the book he was flipping though.

As Killua walks closer, he becomes able to see a boy a few years younger than either Gon or Killua behind Wing looking excitedly at Gon. He's dressed in weird white robes Killua has never seen before (they look comfy) and has skin a shade darker than Gon's. He's not nearly has friendly-looking as Wing but has a controlled intensity about him. He's a fighter. A good one.

Gon's better.

(Zoldycks could tear him apart in minutes.)

"Zushi!"

"Hello, Mr. Gon!" The strange kid—Zushi—bows enthusiastically. Gon returns the gesture. "Is this your traveling companion? Are you helping him with his curse?"

Killua stiffens.

"He's just staying with me for awhile while he figures some stuff out. Right?" Gon flashes Killua a grin before turning his attention to Wing. "Have you heard anything about Ging lately?"

"As far as I know he's still traveling through the North Sea at a snail's pace. I believe the last town he stopped at didn't chase him out, which is why the rumor mill's been a bit excited lately. No ruckus means no trustworthy word on his position, and certain people are understandably worried." Wing pulls a map out of his bag. "Last I heard he's…here." Wing points to a continent northeast of Luska. Compared to Xen Ging is half a world away.

"Where's he going?" Killua asks. "If your dad's really going north, he'll be heading right into—"

"Uncharted territory?" Gon finishes. "Yeah."

"There's not way you'll catch up in time. He'll be there in two weeks, three tops."

"If he goes straight to his destination, yes." Wing gestures to the multitude of cities and towns littered along the edge of the continent, not to mention the tiny, unmarked villages spread in between. "Ging has a habit of taking detours. I'm _sure_ you two can get there before he goes off the map." He moves his finger back towards Xen, stopping short to point to another city way too far for Killua's liking. "Zushi and I are headed this way if you would like a lift."

Killua eyes the two strangers and feels a "no" on his lips even as Gon enthusiastically says yes. He swallows down his protest when he sees Zushi's excited expression matching Gon's and preoccupies himself with helping Wing gather his maps.

Wing offers a smile.

"Please tell me you don't travel in a cart."

 


	10. Chapter 10

They walk.

Zushi quickly reveals himself to be something of a chatterbox. Killua can't tell if he's someone who needs silence filled or is just exited to have new people to talk to, but he seems to have an endless stream of questions for them. His childlike attitude is infectious, grabbing Killua's attention and coaxing longer and longer replies out of him as the day wears on until eventually they're having full-blown conversations.

Listening to him talk, Killua finds himself wondering if Zushi would get along with his sister. They look the same age, maybe a year or two apart in human years if Killua actually attempted to do the math, and both have that infuriatingly contagious cheerful attitude. Not to mention Alluka would be ecstatic to have someone as talkative as Zushi around what with Killua only having the tolerance for a handful of conversations lately. It got even lower once he stopped eating. Poor Alluka could barely get a hum out of him.

(But now that he's not there…)

"Something wrong, Killua?" Zushi asks, cutting off his discussion with Gon mid-sentence. "Is it your feet? It looks like a painful curse."

Killua comes slowly out of his thoughts, panic edging in as he fumbles for a response. "I…what?"

"Your feet." Zushi shrugs, suddenly looking sheepish. "I sensed it awhile back and got curious. I mean you walk fine!" he assures quickly, a undercurrent of fear puncturing his words as he takes in Killua's stormy expression, "But your feet keep flushing with magic, so—"

"Zushi!" The whole group starts, but not just from the volume. There is no threat in the voice, no disappointment, but something covertly warning all the same.  It's the complete opposite of Illumi's overwhelming presence but just as potent, and Killua can't believe the voice came from frumpy Wing. Then he silently chides himself. He of all people should know how deceptive appearances are.

Zushi falls silent for the first time all morning. He deflates under his teacher's voice, effectively scolded. "Sorry, Killua."

"'s fine," Killua says, uneasy. "What…did you mean about my feet?"

"You mean it doesn't hurt?" Zushi blinks in surprise. "Bright color usually means a curse is causing pain, so I just kind of figured…"

"What curse?" Killua demands. He easily hides the fear that beats against his chest and masks it with anger. If Biscuit did something to him...

"It's not a curse," Wing says carefully. "Zushi, you're only somewhat right." He looks at Killua, apologetic. "Do you mind me explaining? Magic between client and casters are _supposed_ to be respected as confidential." Zushi has the decency to look embarrassed.

"Go ahead," Killua says quickly. He forces his hands to relax at his side and focuses all his attention on what Wing's saying, careful not to miss a single word.

"The pain Zushi sees is merely the _result_ of the magic, not the _reaction_ ," Wing begins, his lecturing, professional tone contrasting bluntly with his untucked shirt and messy hair. "You've never seen this before, so I can see why you came to this conclusion. Nine out of ten cases you'd be correct." Wing offers the compliment with a proud smile, and Zushi perks up under the praise. "In this case, the color you see and the magic you sensed is _meant_ to attract your attention. It covers the true purpose, and effect, of the magic. Killua, was the spell cast externally or internally?"

"…I took a potion," Killua says reluctantly.

"Internally then," Wing supplies. "That's what I thought. So you approached the caster with a specific result in mind?" Killua nods. "This is where most of the power is coming from. Internal casting, far from just needing an enormous amount of skill, requires the consent of the receiver instead of being helped along by it like lower-level spells. Otherwise the magic won't stick. It will backfire, usually with fatal consequences."

Killua gulps. Gon doesn't take his eyes off Wing, his eyes bright with that curiosity that's becoming familiar, and for the first time Killua notices how impersonal it is in Gon's eyes. It gives the honey color an almost wicked glint, and Killua wonders if anything could snap him out of his concentration.

"But why does the spell result in pain?" Zushi asks. "Isn't consensual work like that supposed to remove the pain?"

"You know that powerful spells have a few extra products, but they're usually small and can be contained. The one on Killua is particularly powerful. It naturally results in pain just by the strain it puts on his body, but normally it wouldn't be so intense. By the caster focusing all the pain on the feet… which seems to be where most of the pain naturally comes from," Wing musses, looking thoughtful (Killua tries not to flinch), "they can not only contain any other undesirable effects but also create a red herring of sorts.

"Zushi, you noticed the pain right away and immediately came to the conclusion of a curse. After all, almost no common consensual spells result in that amount of pain. With this the caster can prevent most people from detecting the spell itself, let alone its true purpose, unless they know to look beforehand."

"But Teacher," Zushi says, frowning as he looks at the older boy. Killua has the sensation of being under a microscope, and he can barely stifle the urge to cross his arms defensively across his chest. "I still can't see the original spell when I try."

"Killua's spell is well-hidden even beneath the red herring. You may know a lot, Zushi, but there are things only years of dedicated study can do," Wing says. "It's nearly undetectable, some of the best work I've ever seen. If I wasn't familiar with the caster I wouldn't have noticed either. It's Biscuit's work, right Killua?"

"How—"

Wing chuckles at Killua's shocked expression. "She was my mentor. You are the first I've seen of her work in years."

"So you could do a spell like that one?" Zushi asks with bright eyes, nearly vibrating with excitement as he gives Killua's feet an admiring look.

"I don't exactly have the aptitude for practical use like Biscuit," Wing admits, "so I can't reproduce Killua's spell myself. I _could_ take the theoretic approach and possibly come up with the process and ingredients if given enough time."

Zushi asks Wing another question—one with long, strung-out terminology that flies completely over Killua and even Gon's head—and the conversation becomes a lesson only Zushi can successfully follow. Gon and Killua drift further behind, kicking a pebble back and forth to each other while keeping one ear on the conversation for any interesting scrap of information.

"So is this Biscuit person human?" Gon asks.

Killua shakes his head, juggling the pebble with his feet. "Na, she's just a sea witch that can change her appearance. Don't know how she managed to live above water for years though. Even for her it should impossible unless she used some kind of magic." He passes the pebble to Gon.

Gon catches Killua's pass easy, tossing it straight into the air. "Maybe it's the same one she used on you?"

"Maybe."

He thinks about how adamant Biscuit is about not getting too attached and wonders how difficult it was to abandon Wing. Was a year enough for her? Or did Biscuit have longer, drawing time out with her powers? He remembers the pit she was hidden in and wonders if she misses the sun warming her skin, the light casting everything in such vibrant colors. If she misses Wing.

The pebble lands directly in between them. Gon quickly pulls it back over to his side with his feet while Killua's distracted and messily dribbles it down the road, shooting a superior look back at his friend that makes Killua's heart jump.

Knives stab into Killua's feet as he steals the stone from Gon and runs ahead, their laughter echoing, blocking out the voices of Wing and Zushi in the afternoon sun.

><(((^> <^)))><

They stop to eat once dark blue stars to leak into the orange twilight, the sun disappearing on the horizon. Gon pulls out two squirrels they were lucky enough to come across for dinner instead of their  bland provisions. Wing warned both Killua and Zushi earlier that this was a rare treat, probably only possible since they were still close to Xen. Apparently meat is much harder to come by on Lukso.

Gon prepares most of the meal. He skins the squirrels as well as carefully cooks the meat over the fire. Zushi gathers wood, Wing starts the fire with magic ("It's one of the few things I can successfully do."), and Killua attempts to help where he can, which isn't much. To keep him busy Gon shows him how to skin a squirrel, detailing exactly what to cut and what to leave intact and instructing him to practice on a piece of bark.

Killua can't believe how much trouble humans go to just to eat their food a little tastier. "Why cook it? Why don't you just eat the arm as is?" he asks, and gets a laugh before Gon realizes he's serious.

"Besides humans catching diseases from the uncooked meat? Our teeth just aren't strong enough to rip through the bone and muscle and tissue like a Zoldyck's."

 _So the fish before hadn't been cooked just for flavor?_  Killua thinks. _Weird._

"Remember," Gon scoots closer, using his hand to guide Killua's, "you need to hold the flat of the blade like this…"

Killua stays next to Gon even after he's carved his bark to bits, watching the meat cook in the beat-up pan Wing supplied. Gon idly cleans his bloody knife while they talk, and Killua's never been more thankful that the scent doesn't get any reaction out of him.

The food tastes good, but Killua longs for the familiar taste of fish.

Without anything to preoccupy him, Killua ends up going to bed early and falling asleep to Gon and Zushi's whispering as the fire cracks.

Alluka swims swiftly through his dreams, smiling like she did so long ago, back when Killua knew but didn't understand what Zoldycks were, what being heir meant. Illumi was there too, still his older brother, and other than his distaste of Alluka he was perfect. He comes home with pieces of human for Killua, lets him sneak a bite, and Killua feels how sweet it is to be treated like an adult, how pleasant the texture was on his tongue, and the _taste_ —

Killua jerks awake choking on the taste of blood, his stomach heaving and a headache building behind his eyes as he grasps to understand where he is. He can hear Gon and Zushi sleeping a few feet away on either side of him undisturbed. The fire is low and barely manages to illuminate Wing, the only other person awake. By some miracle he didn't notice Killua's violent awakening, or maybe he knows better than to ask.

Exhausted, Killua rolls over to lie on his back and stares up at the sky.

In the boring hours that come, he decides the starry sky is the most reassuring thing he's come across in the human world. It's the only nice thing that hasn't changed. He likes the "quiet" of the crackling fire and the soft breathing of the others, like the barely heard sound of the moving sea. Zushi snores a lot like Alluka did back when she shared a room with Killua, and if he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine he's back in time, the water swaying around him, rocking his bed softly like a cradle.

Breathing deeply, Killua relaxes into a lucid state, not able to truly fall asleep for what seems like forever.

Wing and Gon switch off an hour or so before first light. Killua catches another rough two hours of sleep that somehow makes him even more tired before breakfast.

"We need to travel as far as we can today," Wing says. He gives Killua an extra piece of bread and a silent, concerned look. Killua accepts both gratefully.

"We're getting into the dangerous stretch of the road," Gon explains through a mouthful of food. "Besides the usual conmen and swindlers, there's been sightings of bandits and even magical beasts!" His eyes sparkle with an eagerness that seems misplaced. Killua thinks he sounds down right excited to meet a bandit or two, which is not a common reaction if Wing and Zushi's less than enthusiastic expressions are anything to go by.

The second day of travel is much more monotonous. Killua and Gon can only kick around a pebble for so long before they get bored, and Killua begins to understand Gon's excitement for a bandit or two to show up. The sun seems to suck away their energy as it climbs higher in the sky, beating down on them, and Killua wishes he could just dive back into the ocean and stay there until night. Zushi looks ready to collapse any minute. Only Wing seems okay, though he's not nearly as chipper as yesterday.

"Teacher," Zushi says, voice heavy under the heat, "we're flying after this, right?"

"Flying?" Killua asks. His eyes drift to Wing's back in search of some kind of wings. Is he like Killua then? Or will he use magic to grow wings? Clearly if he could make them float they'd be at their destination by now.

"In an airplane," Zushi (unhelpfully) explains. "Or a blimp."

Only half-lying, Killua nods in understanding. Blimps are what those scientists used way back when. His grandpa managed to learn a lot about them, and it's critical that any young Zoldyck be able to identify one in the sky. He didn't realize civilians use blimps simply for travel. Zeno always assumed (and taught) they were a must-need for the scientists and the military due to all the space. "Airplane" though…he's never heard of an airplane.

"Is flying fun?" Killua asks. Immediately he thinks of the few times he played in the off limit sea caves, swimming as fast as he could until he broke out into the air pocket above, wind ruffling his damp hair and chilling his body as he flew for a few glorious seconds before plummeting back underwater, heart still beating hard with adrenaline and the excited fear that always accompanied disobeying.

(The last time Killua managed to find time to play around like that Grandpa Zeno had found him and taught him the exact angle to swim up for maximum distance and height and where to find the best air pockets. It was also the first time he saw Zeno lie to his father when they got home. Or at least the first time he knew without a doubt that Zeno was lying.)

"I like it," Gon says. "The view's really pretty!"

"It depends," Wing says neutrally. "Some people get sick flying, and others are afraid." He looks thoughtful for a moment before growing serious. "I wouldn't recommend you take an airplane, Killua. No matter which continent you're on, the security for magic is strict to an almost unethical degree. If you have to fly, take a blimp. Understand?"

"Yes."

Wing eyes the other boy. "Gon?"

"I know."

><(((^> <^)))><

They wait as long as they can to stop for the night, pushing it to nearly total darkness until they dare not go any farther. No one's in the mood for a complicated dinner, eating some dried fruit to sate their stomachs before collapsing for the night, poor Zushi left to nod off by the fire to keep watch. Killua gathers an uneasy hour and a half of sleep before relieving Zushi. The boy is too exhausted to realize Killua is letting him off nearly two hours early, or that Wing is supposed to be the next to take over.

Wing is a little harder to convince once he wakes up. He agrees, after Killua spouts a couple of half-lies about not being tired and liking to look at the stars, to go back to sleep on the condition that Killua wakes him up for the next shift, but his tone is reluctant, worried. It makes Killua uncomfortable enough that he wakes Wing up as promised. Under Wing's sharp eyes he has to make a big show of curling into his chilled bag and concentrate on gradually evening out his breaths. The space around him begins to heat up, reflecting warmth back to him, and with his eyes closed a feeling of safety creeps up on him, overwhelming his exhausted mind…

Once again he has to force his way out of his dreams, feeling even more worn out than before. He presses his wrists into his eyes and curls in on himself, willing the already dwindling pain in his head away as he carefully works his breathing back to normal. He can't go on like this. What happens when his body finally give out on him?

"Killua?"

"…"

"Killua, I know you're awake."

After a moment of hesitance, Killua pokes his head out of his sleeping bag. Gon waves him over, and he quickly shimmies out of the stuffy bag and over to the fire next to his friend. He waves away the blanket offered and hunches over, bringing his knees up to his chest and laying his head down on them.

"What happened to Wing?"

Gon shrugs. "Nothing. I just switched places with him early since I wasn't nearly as tired as all of you." He tosses another log in the fire. Both boys silently watch the resulting sparks drift up in the air, dancing around each other, until they disappear into the night. The moon is nearly gone behind its shadow. "Are you just having trouble sleeping on the ground?"

"I've slept in worse places than the ground," Killua scoffs, liking the way Gon's eyes lit up in curiosity. "You'd be surprised how uncomfortable sand is on scales _and_ what a pain it is to clean." He pokes at his shin. That's one nice thing about human skin. It's easy to clean.

"So is it being away from home?" At Killua's dirty expression, Gon quick rephrases the question. "I mean, away from the ocean. When we stayed in that shack the ocean was still nearby, and when we traveled with Palm and Knov you still weren't too far from the water. You might need to be by the water, or even by the caster." He clicks his tongue in thought. "I think Ging had an old friend like that. He couldn't leave the island or he'd turn into sea foam?"

"Magic's weird."

Gon laughs. "Yeah, but I'm glad it let me meet you."

Killua smiles to the fire to hide his embarrassment, softly humming in agreement as he remembers how heavy Gon had been to carry to shore, how he knocked him out cold on the beach. It's unlikely the other boy can recall him, probably thinking it all a dream from the storm, but that's for the better. What would Gon think of him if he knew some of those sailors—some of his friends—had been Killua's dinner? There's a difference between knowing Killua's a killer and seeing him kill, and Killua wants this life to be different. He's not a Zoldyck now. He doesn't have to eat humans. He can have a friend. He can pretend.

Killua sighs and relaxes, wiggles his toes and feels human for a moment next to the heat of the flames. "So how exactly do airplanes even work?"

><(((^> <^)))><

_Vrooom_

Killua starts violently at the deafening noise above him, without even thinking his claws out and ready, adrenaline pumping through his body, limbs tensed for the attack as he turns to the sound with bared teeth—

Zushi looks up at the sky and shades his eyes with his hands, confusion creasing his forehead until it smooths into excitement so intense his face nearly splits in two with the force of his smile. He rushes passed Killua (thankfully too distracted to notice the boy's hasty retraction of his claws) and shouts with more energy than he's shown all morning, "An airplane!"

Gon follows suit, yelling and jumping along with Zushi as they wave to the _giant hunk of metal in the sky_. All Killua can do is gape and squint up at the sight, uncaring if Gon is laughing at him because Gon's description did _nothing_ to prepare him for actually seeing an airplane.

Wing stands by and lets the boys wave at the plane, sharing a knowing look with Killua as the boy covers his ears. He gets a small smile in return and takes it as an invitation to step closer to Killua. "That means we're close," Wing says, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the fading sound of the engine and the yelling boys. "We should be there in an hour or so."

With their renewed energy—Gon's excitement alone is contagious enough to spread through the whole group and put an extra spring in their step— they make it in roughly forty-five minutes. Killua doesn't know when they actually enter the town. Unlike Xen, there's no gate or any indication where the territory starts. Single, unattached houses just gradually begin popping up along the path until all of a sudden they're walking among people, the houses all jammed together with barely an alley between them.

It takes Killua a few seconds to realize things aren't okay, but he can't pinpoint exactly what's wrong right away. There's hostility in the air. An undercurrent of it, sure, but it's there, just thick enough to drive Killua insane as he searches for the origin. Is it Illumi? Someone else? But why? What reason—

His eyes drift over that of an unfamiliar man who's glaring at him with a barely disguised sneer. Killua's eyes widen slightly in surprise, holding the man's gaze as he walks by. Then he sees someone else glaring at him. Another. The reason he can't find the source is because there is no one source. It's coming from half the town, spreading like the plague as more and more people catch on.

Gon retreats from Zushi's side to be closer to Killua. It's unclear how long Gon's noticed the glares, felt the constricting crowd around them like a snake waiting to strike, or if he even realizes Killuas own discomfort, but his closeness is oddly comforting (even if it also manages to irk Killua beyond reason because he's not helpless). For one crazy moment Killua wants to grab his hand and squeeze if only for reassurance, or maybe to drag him out of town. Never has there been so much attention on him, and every lesson he's ever learned screams at him to duck for cover.

Zushi's back stiffens as he notices the situation. Wing shows no visible signs save the one bead of sweat slowly making its way from his hairline to his jaw. Everyone gets the message loud and clear.

They aren't welcome here.

_> <(((v ><v)))><_

"Four for the next available blimp, please."

The man hums as he looks down the list, tapping his desk with a company pen. Killua wants to grab it and throw it against the wall. "That would…be…twenty minutes from now. Payment must be made upfront, and I need the clearance papers for the boy."

"Clearance papers?" Wing asks. He glances back at Zushi, blinking slowly. The boy gives the slightest incline of his head and turns around to head towards a vending machine along the opposite wall. The man can't see his face.

Zushi catches Killua's eye and motions for him to remain quiet.

"But he has a small curse you can clearly identify," Wing is saying, "and last I checked that doesn't require further observation from a professional."

"Sir, I'm sorry, but we can not let this person on a blimp if he has not had his magic reviewed at the local appraisers. It doesn't matter if I can tell right away how low-level the curse is." The man rolls his eyes, clearly seeing the whole process as a waste of time. "You either need to get him clearance or walk. I can't do anything."

Wing sighs impatiently. "Okay. Thank you."

"Have a nice day, sir."

"You, too."

The three of them head towards Zushi, Gon and Wing flanking Killua on either side. It makes him feel even more claustrophobic and irritable. As if he couldn't kill everyone in the room if he put his mind to it.

"What are we going to do?" Gon asks, taking a quick sip of Zushi's offered drink before passing it to Killua. "If they find out Killua's spell is consensual, there's no way any of us are going to be allowed out of town, let alone on a blimp."

"Why are they so hostile anyway?" Killua mutters bitterly, scowling.

His question is met with shrugs. "It could be anything. An old grudge from destruction caused by magic, embracing technology over magic, religion…there's been a lot of call for more control over magic lately." Wing frowns. "The bottom line is we don't have many options."

"But how did all of them _know_?" Killua can't stand the frustration. It feels coiled, ready to explode at a moment's notice, and he needs something to focus on, a way to distract himself before he flies off the handle.

"This isn't uncommon, Killua," Wing says gently. "Lukso has never been particularly welcoming when it comes to the practice of magic, but this town is unusually aggressive. We wouldn't of come here if I'd known. There's most likely trained individuals out at all hours, a kind of neighborhood watch that can identify you at a glance. They give a signal, and the whole town knows. It doesn't matter if it's a curse or not. They want you gone."

Wing takes a moment to catch his breath. Killua can see his own rage reflected back at him in the tightness of Wing's mouth, the unhappy slant of his eyebrows. "I don't know how dangerous this place is. We need to leave as soon as possible."

"Where's the nearest town?" Gon asks.

"Not far. Another two days' worth of travel, but we don't have enough supplies for the four of us. No one's going to serve us without clearance for Killua."

"Then you and Zushi get a blimp here," Gon suggests. "Me and Killua will go to the next town and meet you at the end of the line, and you can spend the extra days gathering provisions. We'll meet you at the north gate and follow our original plan."

Wing looks torn, fiddling with the cuffs of his dress shirt. It's faded from all the dust collected over the morning, its pale pink color now brown, and his hair is even messier than usual from the wind. His eyes flicker to Zushi, takes in his exhausted expression and dirty skin and compares it with the way Gon wears his dirt like a second layer, his body still ready to go at a moments notice.

"Here's money for the blimp and meals." Gon tucks the bills in his bag. "Leave now as quickly as you can and get on the first available blimp. Zushi and I will wait at Angel Fountain for you at noon the whole week once we arrive." Wing places a hand on either boy's shoulder and squeezes, looking down at them resolutely. "Stay safe."

Killua and Gon nod sharply. "We'll be there as soon as we can. Bye, Mr. Wing."

"Good-bye," Killua echoes, not expecting the sadness that chokes him up as they turn to go. "I'm sorry."

The smile Wing offers is knowing. "It's not your fault."

Killua wants to say more, but he doesn't know how to respond. Instead he follows Gon down the hall, both of them looking back once before they turn the corner to wave. The enthusiastic wave Zushi musters up for them makes Killua feel all the guiltier.

_> <(((x> <x)))><_

The two boys get out of town easier than Killua expected. He chalks it up for an eagerness to get rid of him, but something doesn't quite feel right about that, like he's missed something important. The sensation sits in his gut, growing stronger with each step until he as to ask, "Gon, why do you think they let us leave?"

Gon frowns at Killua. "What do you mean? Didn't they just want you gone?"

"I don't know!" Killua swats angrily at a bug on his neck. What had Wing said? That they could distrust magic for religious reasons? A scarred past? Science? Control? But none of those fit! By all accounts they should want him to stay put, whether to destroy him or get him checked out. Beyond the open distrust of magic, the people had made no move to directly interfere with him. Did they truly just want Killua to leave?

But why? _Why_ had all they done was glare? They had no way to know if he was staying for a few days or leaving right away. Why had no one taken a more direct approach? No way they were scared of him. Even if they assumed he was capable of magic, if they needed to ever get rid of someone like him, was there really no one in town that would be able to take him on?

…Or maybe there was something outside of town who would do it for them?

"Gon—"

Killua's knees crumple, his whole body going numb in a matter of seconds. Gon stares at him, and he stares right back, both of them dazed for a second. Then Killua tries to move, fails, and a mirrored look of horror dawns on both their faces a moment before Gon moves.

Gon narrowly dodges a…card?… that lands directly in front of Killua, barely skimming his nose. Gon's a flash of green as he weaves back and forth with his fishing rod, dodging cards as his eyes search for the attacker with increasing desperation until his limbs suddenly contort like a tangled puppet on a string, legs locked together and arms pulled behind him at odd angles that draw out a strangled cry of rage as he fights against them, fishing rod falling uselessly next to him.

"Not many people can sense my cards, you know, ♦" a slick, creepy, _familiar_ voice behind Killua says. "You really are something. ♠" A high heel suddenly enters Killua's line of vision, blocking his view of Gon, and the boy feels his face twitch with the desire to scowl as he looks up into a grinning face he's never held fond feelings for.

"…You—!"

The man looks down. It takes a moment for him to recognize Killua, but when he does, eyes narrowing in delighted interest as he chuckles that creepy laugh of his, the Zoldyck regrets ever opening his mouth. Killua knows firsthand you do not want Hisoka's interest, and it seems even the magic binding him down can't suppress the shutter that claws its way down his spine.

"Looks like I caught a little fish. ♥"


	11. Chapter 11

The man looks more like a magician than a thief. His clothes are bright and ridiculous, clinging tightly to his stomach but loosely on his limbs. His skin is way too pale for him to have been in the desert for long, and…are those tattoos under his eyes? He’s the strangest bandit Gon’s ever seen, but beyond his weird appearance there’s something off about him, something that makes Gon feel excited.

“Who are you?”

The man looks away from Killua, gives Gon a mildly interested glance that doesn’t extend to the rest of his smug expression.

“A better question is who are you? ♠” the magician says. His eyes drift along Gon’s body, not so much lecherous as curious, like a lazy cat eyeing a tasty-looking bird it can’t decide will be worth the effort to eat, but it’s uncomfortable all the same. It sends the exhilarating feeling of fear skating down Gon’s back. His body kicks into overdrive, and a smile threatens his lips. It’s been _forever_ since he felt this kind of fear, the kind that makes him feel alive.

“Hisoka!”

…Right, Killua!

Hisoka looks down to look at the fallen boy, nudging him with his foot. His cool attitude contrasts sharply with Killua’s fury, heightens it until Gon swears he can hear Killua grating his teeth in frustration as he glares up at the man, body twitching in contained rage.

“Hmm, not as strong as usual, are you? I didn’t expect the poison to hit you so fast. Humans are so…expendable. ♣”

Killua makes fleeting eye contact with Gon, struggles against his invisible bonds pathetically, before looking at Hisoka. It looks so artificial that for a second Gon wants to laugh at how absurd it looks, taken aback by his friend's odd actions, but he gets the message loud and clear: try to break out.

 “I’m not that weak," Killua says, scowling. "This can’t be normal poison. Where did you get this?”

“Hm? Made it myself. ♥”

Carefully Gon tests out the invisible strings holding his limbs in place. No… not strings…it feels more like some kind of big, strong rubber band wrapped around his body. Gon’s chances of breaking through it on physical efforts alone are very slim. It’s quality magic. Strong.

It’s also simple, so simple a beginner caster could break it, or someone who’s picked up a trick or two from some friends. Clearly this man underestimated Gon.

Breathing deeply Gon concentrates on the magic binding him. He might be able to break out of this if he can just… find… the focus point…

“I don’t know why you didn’t come to me to help you with you’re little trip,” Hisoka says. “We could’ve had so much fun.♦”

The amount of scorn put into Killua’s responding scoff is award-worthy, but it sounds on edge.

“So you could screw me over?” Killua says. “No, thanks.”

There! Gon’s through—!

A hand closes around Gon’s neck and hoists him up to his knees.

“Hisoka!” Killua yells.

“Shhhh." Hisoka chuckles. "Be quiet, or I’ll…”

Gon gasps. All his breath sticks in his throat as Hisoka squeezes, the instinctive shot of panic jolting him into action, grabbing desperately at the hand, digging his nails into the tough skin. Skin like a rock.

Skin like Killua’s.

Impulsively, Gon relaxes and stares at the man, waiting.

“Hmm?“ For the first time, a different emotion flickers across Hisoka’s face: a frown of displeasure. “Done already? Boring.”

Gon sees Hisoka mulling over his next course of action. One quick jerk to either side, a tighter grip, even the razor-sharp caress of his fingernails…it can take many forms, but the result will ultimately be the same. It’s just a matter of the process Hisoka chooses.

Between heartbeats Gon feels Hisoka’s hand loosen—he’s going to snap Gon’s neck to the left in one quick, efficient, and clean motion—and the boy acts before the thought is even fully formed in his head, letting his knees collapse, his body plummet towards the ground like a rag doll. His neck slips out of the hand encaging it. Air rushes into Gon’s lungs, and he rolls for all it’s worth, jumping to his feet to fight.

Hisoka is languid as he straightens. His hand is still curved in the impression of Gon’s neck, the look on his face barely flickering as he regards the waiting boy. Only his eyes move to watch the bead of sweat roll down Gon’s cheek.

Hisoka’s hand clenches.

_> <)))x> <x(((><_

_“Hey.”_

…

_“Gon.”_

“Mm…”

Gon fights against the voice with everything he has. He’s dimly aware that everything aches, that the pain increases along with his awareness. The steady thrum accompanying the shaking world around him lulls him back towards unconsciousness, and already the discomfort is seeping away as he falls back asleep, the pain slowly retreating to wait and strike later.

Someone shakes Gon’s shoulder. _“Come on. Get up.”_

They might as well have stabbed him. His whole body flares in response, the sensation all rushing in at once, and he groans. The pain is impossible to ignore now. He won’t be going back into his blissful sleep any time soon.

“Gon?”

It’s an effort to open his eyes. At first he’s not even sure if he is. Darkness simply gives way to more darkness.

“…’illua?”

“Yeah.”

Something shifts in front of him. A thin stream of light appears, illuminating Killua’s white hair like a halo. His face stays hidden, the small sliver of light outlining his body, the angry red mark on his neck from the “bug bite” standing out harshly on his pale skin.

_Hisoka..._

Flashes of punches, slick smirks, inhuman eyes. Hisoka wasn’t the only one who underestimated his opponent.

Killua moves so more light comes in. Now Gon can see the dark bruises all along his own arms. He’s more black and blue than tan, and by how bad his ribs hurt, he bets his chest and stomach don’t look much better.

Still, he’s alive.

“He…I’m okay?”

Killua snorts. “You impressed Hisoka. He wouldn’t kill you. Not yet.” He sounds flippant, as if he’s talking about the weather. The line of tension in his neck tells a different story.

_Was he worried?_

“You surprised him, you know? When you broke free of his magic? Hisoka _loves_ when he underestimates someone,” Killua says, and then sighs. It turns into a breathless laugh, a slight edge of hysteria to it that sends a shutter through his body, and there’s an audible thud as he collapses back against the wall. “Why didn’t you run? Why the _hell_ did you try and fight him? He could’ve—you should be dead, Gon! Almost anyone else would be dead!

Killua’s tirade humbles Gon just a bit, makes guilt well hot in his stomach. It feels good.

“Thanks, Killua.”

“Only you could manage to impress that psychopath,” Killua mutters. “Moron.”

_Yeah..._

Gon doesn’t know what more to say.

_> <)))T> <T((><_

Neither is sure how much time passes before they switch boxes,  They can only guess when nighttime has passed since whoever is transporting them throws a tarp of some kind over them at random intervals. It’s impossible to gauge time, but Killua thinks that Gon was unconscious for a day or so, and that it’s been seven days since their capture.   


They can hear the others being moved, yelping as they’re shoved into their new cages.

“We can take them,” Gon tells Killua. “If we just—“

“You can barely move. You're just gonna hurt yourself,” Killua hisses. He’s taken on the role of caretaker in the last week, doing his best to keep Gon from getting jostled too much and giving him extra food out of their measly two a day. For the most part Gon doesn't mind, but right now it's really grating on his nerves.

“But—“

“We need to wait and see what our situation is. You can be reckless later, moron, when you aren’t ready to pass out.”

“ _But_ —“

The top opens, their argument falling silent. A woman with a bored expression looks down at them. Gon can’t tell if she heard them or not, but he doubts she’d care either way. There’s a silent confidence to her, but It’s almost tangible, palpable enough that Gon feels his own waver.

 She waves her hand overtop of them, and Gon feels thin, invisible strings wrap firmly around his body.

“Struggle too much and you’ll strangle yourself,” she says. She flexes her index finger, and the strings around them tighten slightly. “Who’s first?”

Killua shoots Gon a warning look before he stands up. The woman grabs him easily lifts him out of the box, setting him down with a rough “thump” outside. Gon rethinks his plan a little more.

“Next.”

Gon finds it a little harder to get up without his arms. His legs strain with the effort, some of the pain that had disappeared the day before flaring as he forces his muscles into action. The strings slowly begin to wrap around him tighter as he struggles, the woman looking on impassively as she waits for Gon to stand high enough for her to grab.

After an eternity Gon straightens up enough, and he scowls as the woman lifts him. Usually he’d be better by now, or at least not this sore. Killua was right. There’s no way he can pull anything in this condition.

The woman continues to carry Gon while Killua walks beside. He thinks about wiggling out of her hands—in the long run not taking this brief opportunity to stretch his legs is going to hurt him—but he feels the strings around him stir as she adjusts her hands and decides against it. As aggravating as it is to do nothing—to be powerless— this is not the time to make enemies.

Gon can’t see behind him, but he assumes the truck in front of them is much larger than the one they were traveling in before. Large metal boxes fit together like puzzle-pieces on the bed of the truck, barely offering any space between them. How many people do they have? How many people are they piling into one box?

_What if they separate me and Killua?_

The answer comes easily. It doesn’t matter how sore he is, or how strong this woman is. He can still be formidable.

The woman approaches the truck, but instead of going to where her companion is, she simply dumps Gon into the nearest box. Killua follows soon after, nearly landing on top of Gon, and the lid slides over them not a moment afterwards.

Sighing, Gon and leans against the wall and slowly stretches out his legs in front of him. After the brief reprieve, being stuffed back into a small space is making him edgy. He’s never been able to handle being caged well, but Killua hasn’t been affected at all—

“I didn’t see Hisoka.”

Gon looks at Killua and is surprised to see his eyes wide, to hear his shallow breathing. “I didn’t see Hisoka,“ he whispers. “I don’t…Gon…Gon, this box… where are we going? Were we sold? ”

Gon blinks at the undisguised note of fear in Killua’s voice, his wild expression only accented by the bland metal behind him. It makes him look paler than usual, almost sickly as he looks around wildly, and Gon suddenly remembers that his friend is a wild animal, one that was nearly driven to extinction.

The sound of latches clinking shut echoes in the empty space between the boys. Killua’s eyes widen, his hands slightly trembling, and he seems ready to explode—or fall apart—at any moment.

“Killua…” Gon hesitates to reach a hand out to the boy, decides against it. “…Hey.” It takes a few seconds, but Killua’s eyes eventually find Gon’s. The boy moves closer, careful not to touch him. “They don’t know about you,” he mutters. “You’re just another human kid they need to transport, okay? Besides, there’s no way this is the last stop. We’ll just need to break out next time, right?”

Killua turns his gaze back to the lid. Gon grapples with himself for a minute before slowly sliding his hand forward, letting their fingers lightly touch each other. His friend doesn't react to the contact, but as the truck jerks forward, he finally drops his tensed shoulders. He draws his knees to his chest and hides his face in his knees, not moving his fingers away from Gon’s until an hour later, when a sudden large bump in the road throws them apart.

_> <)))~> <~((><_

There are only two places light comes into Gon and Killua’s new box. Both are on the top, parallel to each other, appearing to look down on them like eyes.  It’s the only thing that changes now in their narrow world. Occasionally they close when an unknowable force blocks the sun, sometimes blinking only momentary or napping for a few minutes and then waking up with a sudden burst of light.

The abrupt descents into darkness keep them alert. Rather, it keeps Gon alert while driving Killua a little closer to the edge he had been on that morning, the edge Gon had managed to coax him away from in that hour of simple touching.

 _Most animals respond well to touch,_ Gon thinks. He shifts uncomfortably, shrugs off his jacket. The temperature is climbing fast in their confined space, sweat already starting to appear on his arms and face. _Of course in this heat no one would want anyone to touch them._

Killua finally pulls off his drenched shirt, discarding it a little too hard to be casual. All the fat Gon and Leorio had managed to put on his bones is completely gone, and the outline of his spine can clearly be seen. He’s a step away from looking like a walking corpse.

Gon sucks in a breath, tries to remember how much Killua’s been eating, and can’t. He had some squirrel before this all started, right? But how much? He had a handful of their provisions, but how much was in his hand? He’d seemed fine when they talked under the stars, smiling freely, eyes shining in awe, face outlined beautifully in the brightness of the flames.

Their eyes meet. Killua subtly hunches in on himself, as if shielding himself from Gon, and Gon’s surprised how much it hurts to see his friend shy away from him, try to hide himself away, but he turns his eyes away like Killua wants.

Gon aggressively wipes the sweat off his forehead. There’s no way Killua will accept part of Gon’s meal when they’re eventually fed, but Gon’s going to make him eat his share instead of giving it away like usual, and then as soon as they’re safe, Gon’s making sure Killua has a real meal three times a day. He’ll go through food until he finds something Killua loves and until he’s healthy—

…If this hadn’t happened, would Killua have simply continued to lose weight until he passed out? Would he rather slowly starve than tell Gon what was the matter?

The sharp screech of metal startles Gon out of his thoughts. He looks towards the sound.

There are scratch marks on the wall, the white lines smooth and deliberate. Killua’s nails catch the light from the sun and shine as he considers the wall before taking another swipe at it. Then another. Another. Another until it dissolves into a near frenzy, sweat flying from his skinny frame, teeth clenched in a snarl, the heat seeming to reach its crescendo around them, boiling them alive in their little box, making Gon feel sick to his stomach.

It can’t last more than five minutes before Killua stops, lays down, chest heaving and skin slick, his breaths barely audible over the steady thrum of the engine. He considers his nails, makes some halting movement towards himself before letting it fall to the ground.

“Gon,” Killua says, voice barely there, “the magic you used against Hisoka…can you blast a hole?”

Gon shakes his head, feels the black hole in his gut grow. He can’t tell if it’s guilt or nausea. Probably both. “I can only destroy existing spells.”

 _I’m useless,_ he wants to say, but his tongue feels like lead. It’s so hot. It’s so…

><)))-> <-(((><

They’re eventually given water, but Gon doesn't know how long they sat there, dazed, staring at nothing, minds melting into goo. He looks at the shallow scratch marks in the wall faintly glimmering in the light, feels that a sick satisfaction of guilt again.

The light begins to take on a gradual tint until it eventually slips away into the darkness of their box. Night comes, and it feels like all energy the sun robbed them of is returning two-fold. The boys become restless in the cold, shifting their positions more frequently and moving around each other like restless animals, never quite getting close enough to touch.  The two finally fall sleep an hour before sunrise and don’t awaken again until they’re given food around noon.

The portion size is a little bigger than it had been before. Gon finds he has trouble eating it. Even drinking water makes his stomach churn, but he knows he has to force it down for the sake of having something in his system. Killua doesn’t even try to eat.

Surprisingly they’re given dinner as well. Their captors must be nervous about the heat. Killua doesn’t eat again, just stares at the slashes he made yesterday with a blank expression.

“I have no idea what’s going on,” Killua suddenly mutters with mounting desperation. “It’s definitely not Hisoka’s idea—he wouldn’t do something like this, not on his own, but why is he working with other people in the first place? What could they possibly have that he wants?”

Gon chews his food slowly, forces it down his throat. “What kinds of things would Hisoka want?”

Killua thinks a moment before shivering. “These are probably not people we want to be around.”

“How do you know Hisoka?” Gon asks, putting on his filthy jacket. The temperature’s already taking a nosedive, and he really hopes whoever put them in this box is going to throw them a blanket tonight.

“He’s my brother’s…friend? I think? …Maybe?” Killua frowns in thought. “My brother goes to him for magic stuff, and I guess they help each other out sometimes.”

Gon sits up from his stretched out position. His muscles send a dull wave of pain through his body as he shifts closer to Killua, tenderly resting his back on the wall beside him. “Is he the one who helped you become human?”

“Hell no!” Killua scowls, nervously tapping his finger on the ground. “Only an idiot would go to Hisoka for a deal. That guy does want he wants. You ask for blond hair and he turns you into a clown fish because ‘it suits you much better.’”

Gon laughs. “He sounds interesting.” He laughs even harder at Killua’s shocked expression, leaning over to bump shoulders with him. Killua’s sigh sounds almost fond, but there’s still an underlying tension.

Silence reigns again, but it’s comfortable this time, energized by the lingering heat enough to allow a pleasant shimmer between them, but with each passing moment the darkness steals away whatever warmth they have, and without even thinking Gon moves closer to Killua to preserve some between their bodies.

Killua doesn’t offer much in return. His skin is still just as unyielding and inhuman as it’s been since Gon saved him from the storm. He doesn’t know if Killua’s even noticed the change, but why would he? Human skin was probably a minor inconvenience next to all his other problems, and no one really remembers the minor things when they’re suddenly gone.

“You need to eat something,” Gon says.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then drink something.”

Killua makes a face, rubs his stomach. “It makes me sick.”

“That’s not good.” Gon picks up a small loaf of bread and hands it to Killua. “If you don’t get something in your stomach, you won’t be able to escape when we need to.”

“Ugh.” Killua grabs the food and stares at it with a look of pure hatred that slowly wilts into an unsteady frown. “On second thought, I’ll start with the water.”

They stop talking as Gon oversees Killua’s meal. Gon has left a decent amount of space between them, but Killua seems to gradually move closer. He can’t tell if it’s a purposeful action by the boy or simply the sway of the truck moving them closer, but he finds he likes the proximity a lot.

“So…” Killua says suddenly, “why _are_ you trying to find your dad?”

“You don’t know? No one told you?”

Killua shrugs. “I assumed a few things, but I mean…why?”

Gon doesn't smile when he explains. He doesn't look sad either. The indifference in his explanation overshadows the mixed feelings storming in his head and allows him a flimsy shield.

“This is actually the second time I’m doing this,” he says. “When I found Ging the first time…some stuff happened, and I decided I didn’t want to travel with him.” Not a lie, not the truth. A half-truth he told to himself at the time, so does that still make it true now? “I heard he was heading towards uncharted waters, which is what I planned to do. I thought I’d go with him and see some old friends that are helping him.”

Killua nods to himself and takes a moment to digest the information. “So do you like your dad?”

“I don’t know,” Gon says honestly. “He’s not a bad guy. He’s interesting. What’s yours like?”

“Mm…” Killua shrugs. “He’s pretty cool when he’s not telling me I’m gonna be in charge of the family. He can kill a man without a single drop of blood getting in the sea.”

“Really?” Gon asks, fascinated.

“Yep.” The pride in Killua is unmistakable, and it makes Gon feel a little jealous. 

“What about your brother?” Gon asks. “You mentioned one.”

Killua shrugs, takes a gulp of water. Gon can see him considering his words carefully.

“I have a few siblings,” Killua says carefully. “My oldest brother is very…um…” He brings a thoughtful hand to his mouth. “…He’s crazy. He believes in our family, what Zoldycks are, but he’s crazy.”

“Crazy?”

“That storm was his fault,” Killua admits casually. “He tried to take me back home.”

“ _What?!_ ” The anger is instantaneous. Gon can feel his hands slightly tremble, the emotion crashing through his whole system, fueled by Killua’s nonchalant tone. “He can’t… forcefully trying to undo a spell like yours could’ve _killed_ you!

Killua looks at him with surprise. It’s quickly wiped away from his face and replaced with something almost cocky. “Gon, it’ll take more than that to kill me.”

Gon scowls. Doesn’t he understand it has nothing to do with how strong he is? That magic is a completely different thing altogether?!

“Killua—“

The world lurches. Gon squeaks in pain as his back is jarred against the wall, teeth ratting in his head, but he’s kept from being completely thrown by Killua wrapping his arms around him.

“Ow…”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just sore.” Gon slowly sits up with Killua’s help, grimacing as he tries to roll his shoulder. He stops when he realizes he can no longer hear the constant hum of the engine or feel the ground vibrating.

Killua’s back straightens so fast Gon can’t believe he doesn’t snap in half. He puts his ear to the wall, listening, but even Gon hears the yelling, the sounds of metal hitting metal and heavy objects falling.

“Hey!” Killua yells. He lets go of Gon, stands up, and presses his face against one of the holes. “ _Hey!_ ” His voice creates a chain, others beginning their own desperate cry, hands slamming on cages, joining with the chaos outside in a crazed symphony.

There’s a resounding crunch. Several people yell in pain. Gon looks through the other opening next to Killua, but it’s no use. All he can see is the reddening sky above them, the sun somewhere beyond his limited sight.

Killua crouches down. He coils like spring and then whips his leg forward against the wall, the sound completely lost in all the noise. He returns to the other eye beside Gon and yells again.

Not even a minute later the metal is lifted away from their faces. The light rushes in all at once to blind them. Gon fumbles his way out of the cage and almost groans as the stagnant air from before is washed away, energy shocked into his system.

Impossibly the chaos looks worse than it sounds. Maybe it’s all the blood. Maybe it’s the lack of allies in the small group of brawlers, the inability to pick out the good from the bad. Gon definitely wants to avoid it at all costs.

No one’s noticed everyone slowly emerging from the boxes in the back of the tuck, most of the fighting taking place farther away from the vehicle. The elevated view lets Gon see just how featureless the area around him. No signs, no towns on the horizon, barely even a road, and yet he can see a few other prisoners running into the distance pursued by what are probably their kidnappers.

Killua is immediately beside him, eyes calculating the battlefield. “Which direction did we come from?”

“I don’t know,” Gon whispers, “but no one’s running south. Come on.”

Killua grabs Gon hand before he can bolt, pulls him down behind a cage for cover. “We don’t have any supplies,” he mutters. “The nearest town could be days away—” His eyes widen. “Let’s check the front. They have to have things we can use.”

Crouching down low behind the boxes to avoid being seen, the boys move towards the truck’s front. Carefully they lower themselves to the ground and dash to the truck’s door. Killua throws it open and Gon immediately jumps inside. Killua grabs three bags and empties them, grabbing only the essentials while Gon riffles through the rest, grabbing whatever looks promising at handing it out to his friend for closer examination.

“That’s enough,” Killua hisses, stuffing a blanket into one of the three bags they found. “Come on—”

The other door opens.

For a second Gon and the other person stare at each other in shock.

Gon dives towards the man and out of the car, narrowly avoiding being grabbed, and shoves the door closed with his shoulder as he dashes to the left.

“Hey!” the man yells. Gon can see heads turn in his direction as he sprints passed the truck towards the south. Killua is a step behind him with all three bags hanging lopsided from his back, shoving at Gon’s back for him to go faster, almost tripping over him. Gon tries to go faster, but the ache is growing in his legs, in his arms, in his chest.

The footsteps behind Gon sound different. He doesn’t know if the others followed or if it’s just the one man, but breaking focus to glance back for just one moment could be fatal. Any decrease in speed, one little stumble, and he can be dead.

_Come on!_

It hurts, but he runs faster, almost leaves Killua behind with his sudden burst of speed.

The person behind them says something. Gon feels something like a burst of wind graze his side, and a second later the ground a few yards in front of him explodes into a cloud of dust. The person talks again, and this time Gon dives to the left when he feels the hair on his neck stand up, throwing one haphazard look over his shoulder.

It’s a different man from before. He’s turned away from Gon, advancing confidently towards Killua, who’s running the opposite way, away from Gon. Gon realizes that last blast was a distraction, a cheap parlor trick to separate them, and they fell for it.

He’s impressed.

Then it’s gone, replaced by ice-cold fear. Gon yells, but the man doesn’t turn. He doesn’t even flinch as the spell leaves his hand, soaring towards Killua, the picture of experience.

Killua is knocked off his feet, flung to the side like a rag doll, and lands on his back. Gon is running, but the man is too close and Gon doesn’t think he’s going to get there in time or if he has time because Killua isn’t moving and _why did the guy go for him why Killua why does this keep happening_

The man stands over Killua. He leans down, and then he’s on the ground. Killua is sitting up, wincing as he rubs his chest. He looks dazed but otherwise unharmed.

“Killua!” Gon calls, running to his side as fast as he can. His friend flinches. “You’re okay?”

“Gon…” His eyes flicker to the body lying beside him, to his hands, to Gon, away.

Gon holds out his hand, smiling, to his unharmed friend. “Need help up?”

Killua stares at Gon’s hand like it’s bear trap, an illusion that will dissolve any moment, but he accepts the hand like a starving man would a piece of bread. The blood makes a strange squeaking sound as Gon tightens his grip to pull his friend to his feet.  Gon idly wipes it on his shorts and picks up one of the fallen bags.

“Let’s go.”

“…Yeah,” Killua says, following behind.


	12. Chapter 12

It’s hot, and it’s dry, and it’s miserable. The world is featureless around them, not even a small mound of dirt interrupting the monotonous wasteland. There’s no way to know how far they still have to go, and without any landmarks there's no way to know how far they’ve come. It feels as if they’re simply walking in place, uselessly putting one foot in front of the other for the sake of appearances, the only two people on an unmoving planet.

The pain in Killua’s feet gradually grows as they walk. It becomes a steady pulse as time drags by, a drum beat of knives set to the rhythm of their pace, but there’s a comfort he can find in it. The predictability of the pain makes it tolerable, allows it to blend into the background almost seamlessly, and he forgets about it.

Of course it’s too good to last. Eventually it gathers speed, and the somewhat comfortable rhythm accelerates into chaos until it's an endless thrum. Soon he doesn't even get the momentary relief between steps anymore, and he has to look down occasionally to tell which foot is touching the ground, all his senses swallowed by the pain.

( _We should take a break_ , he wants to say to his friend. He nearly does more than once, but the embarrassment that squirms unpleasantly in his gut makes him hesitant. Having to explain his feet hurt—having to remind Gon of his inhumanness—makes his stomach clench. He holds his tongue.)

Night falls, and the heat is predictably replaced with bitter cold. The stars begin to appear, stretching endlessly above them. Killua idly thinks he'll finally have a small distraction from the pain, but as more and more stars appear, it begins to take his breath away. 

He forgot how vast the sky was while he was inside the cage. The soft lights fill his vision no matter where he looks, the flat scenery displaying them for miles. He feels like he’s in a cave full of glittering jewels, and he nearly fools himself into thinking he can grab one for a moment.

“Ah! There’s the small dipper! Killua! Do you see it?”

Apparently to Gon, the sky becomes a picture book.

“…Yeah?”

"Oh! There's the big one!"

Gon traces the invisible lines with his finger, trying to help Killua see the people and animals, recounting stories with each new constellation he finds, but Killua can’t see the pictures no matter how hard he tries.

( _You can’t see stars at the bottom of the ocean_ , he wants to say to his friend as an explanation for his lack of interest, but a strange surge of otherness overwhelms him. The words throw up a wall between them—human and not human—that makes his stomach clench. He holds his tongue.)

“And there’s Virgo! Do you see? It's a woman.”

“…I think?”

“Here.”

Gon turns around and grabs Killua’s hand, yanking him to his side, but there’s a strange flicker of surprise on his face as he pulls. He grips Killua’s hand tighter and looks closely at his face

Killua recoils. “What?“ he asks, his eyes darting away.

“Nothing. Look over there!” Gon lets go and throws an arm around Killua’s neck instead, bringing his face close so their cheeks touch as they walk side-by-side. He softly angles Killua's head with his hand. “Do you see it now?” he asks, pointing to the jumble of stars above them.

Killua tries, he really does. He’s furiously connecting the stars in his mind, trying to see the woman that supposedly lurks there, but it’s hard to concentrate with how warm Gon is on his face. It wouldn't be so bad if it weren't so cold, but every time the breeze brushes against his skin, Gon’s warmth becomes that much more obvious. “I don’t see it.”

“Um...do you see that really bright star?”

“Which one?”

“The really, _really_ bright one. There.” Gon presses himself even closer to Killua and there is no way he’s going to be able to find the star now when he's unable to completely focus on anything but Gon.

Killua idly notices their breaths are mixing together in front of them as Gon talks. He notices how nicely Gon’s hand fits on his shoulder. He notices Gon is actually half an inch shorter than him. He notices his heart beating impossibly fast in his chest and wonders if they've been walking for too long, if he's becoming winded.

Gon draws away smiling. His breath becomes his own again. “So can you see Virgo now?”

Killua looks up to the endlessness above him, at the beautiful, chaotic arrangement of stars, and thinks, _Aren't they enough already? Why did humans feel the need to make pictures?_

“Yeah,” he lies, falling back to walk behind Gon again. He feels the chill on his body grow, his face particularly cold, and he wonders if the temperature has dropped again.

_> <)))o> <o)))><_

Killua doesn’t know how long it’s been when Gon starts favoring one leg. It’s subtle, but Killua’s no stranger to hiding injuries. He can see the new, pinched edge to the way Gon looks at the stars now when he points out constellations, the slight tension of his shoulders, and he waits for his friend to suggest stopping, but time ticks by with barely a word. Gon’s comments about the stars dwindle until he stops pointing them out at all, but his back remains steady, betraying nothing.

“Gon,” Killua says finally, “we need to stop.”

Gon doesn’t even glance over as Killua moves to walk beside him, though his expression evens just the slightest bit. “Why? Are you hurt, Killua?”

Killua feels his eyebrow twitch. Does Gon think he's stupid?! He goes to run a frustrated hand through his hair, ready to remind Gon exactly which one of them is hurt again, when the wind blows. He smells the stale blood on his hand, tastes it on his tongue, and his mouth immediately goes dry. Bile surges in his stomach.

 _Why now?_ he thinks wildly, feeling the ground sway beneath him like a boat in a storm. _I was fine! What happened?_

He drops his hand back to his side and recoils slightly when it ghosts against Gon’s. He looks down, and in the faint light he can make out the matching color on his friend's hand. That man’s blood…he's still all over them...

"Killua? Are you hurt?" Gon asks again, worry slipping in. They stop walking, and Gon finally turns to face him. He lifts his arms slightly towards Killua, as if he's the one who needs support.

“Kinda." Killua slightly leans his body away from Gon. 

“Okay. We need to try to find somewhere with shade.” Gon drops his arms and begins to walk again. Killua follows at a distance. “I think there’s a tent in my bag, but it’s going to be hot when the sun rises. Finding water would be ideal, but it’ll be hard to—“

“Killua!”

Biscuit’s voice is suddenly way too loud in his head. He swears he can hear it echoing, and he has to fight the impulse to shove his hands over his ears.

 _What?!_  Killua thinks furiously, ignoring the weird look Gon gives him. Embarrassment creeps up on him.

“Someone seems a little blue,” Biscuit says.

Killua stops walking. The pain in his feet intensifies, and he’s not sure whether he grits his teeth out of pain or anger. _I didn’t ask for your opinion, hag._

“Killua?” Gon says.

“I’d be careful, kid, since I know where to find water.”

_Good, since you just ruined one of the two bottles we have left to talk to me._

“Killua?”

“Gon, I think I can find—”

“You seem agitated,” Biscuit says. “Did something bad happen?”

_I'm fine—_

“Don’t give me that! I haven’t been able to find you!”

“Find what?”

“Is that human of yours—“

_He is not —!_

“Killua?”

“—okay?”

“Killua? What’s—

“—wrong?”

 _"Stop—“_ It’s too much too much _too much_ _“ —just stop talking!"_

…Killua slowly opens his eyes to find himself looking at the ground. His ears are starting to hurt from how strongly he’s gripping them, but he doesn’t let go just yet. There's still a voiceless sound echoing in his head despite the quiet. It’s like a noiseless hurricane in his head, his mind too full to hold anything else, and it takes a few minutes for it to drain away and leave blessed silence.

“I know where water is.” Killua takes a deep breath and unclenches his hands. He stares straight ahead and furiously ignores how self-conscious he feels with Gon’s eyes on him. “Please wait until we get there to talk.”

He takes the lead with hunched shoulders, walking as fast as his aching feet allow, and Gon obediently falls silent. Biscuit relays instructions in a reserved way, saying nothing except to redirect Killua when he gets off track, and Gon doesn’t say a word when they suddenly reverse direction or wander off towards nothing. It’s unsettling, but Killua doesn’t dare look back to see his friend's expression. Biscuit's uncharacteristic voice is bad enough.

When the sky is just beginning to change colors, the stars disappearing and the landscape no long able to conceal its barrenness, they nearly stumble into a small, clear spring that reflects the sky’s red color. Gon quickly declares it drinkable with a relieved, sleepy smile.

 _Thank you,_ Killua thinks, but Biscuit doesn’t respond.

Gon quietly begins to take out the tent. The strain in his posture is much more evident now, and Killua is able to shoo him towards the water to get a drink and refill his bottle without much resistance before turning to the tent. It’s a struggle (he hits himself with the poles at least four times and narrowly misses one to the face), but he gets it up in one piece, even if it is a bit lop-sided.

Killua goes to get a drink as Gon retires in the tent. He’s careful to keep his filthy hands from touching the clean water, but the angle he has to hold his bottle at to achieve this makes filling it a torturously slow process. When it’s finally full enough he nearly dumps the water all over himself in his hurry to get a drink, chugging it down until it’s empty and then gasping, tasting the scent of blood from his hands being so close to his face.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, but that damn scent is stuck in his nose and that's it he _can’t take it anymore_.

Killua rips off some of his shirt that isn't covered in blood and soaks it with the water from his bottle. He sits down and scrubs at his hands, scrubs and scrubs abd scubs as he stares off at the horizon, not caring when his hands begin to sting or his arms begin to ache with the effort or his skin chaps, wondering what his family would say about him now.

Illumi had said it would take some time to get used to the smell, and back when the boat was attacked Killua had eaten the flesh his brother had shoved in his mouth without any problem, but here he was again, racked with disgust. A failure.

His arms strain with his next scrub, a broken sound escaping from his clenched teeth. Is it a sob? A growl? A laugh? He can’t tell. He doesn't really care. He grips the cloth as hard as he can in preparation for the next scrub

(Alluka would be disappointed)

and stops, stares at his raw, red hands. Blood is leaking from where his skin cracked. There’s a small puddle of it on the ground. He softy wipes his skin with the rag—

...His skin…it’s different from before...

_No, it can’t be._

He pokes at his palm. It’s still cold, but it’s not hard anymore. It gives under his touch, and he can feel the bones underneath if he presses hard enough. There’s no mistaking it. It’s like human flesh again.

He can feel that broken sound in his throat clawing its way up again, but he slams a hand over his mouth, then the other, stares at nothing and thinks of nothing for awhile.

...Killua looks up when the sun begins to blind him, peeking over the horizon. He needs...he needs to move, to talk to Gon and figure out a plan. Yeah, that's what he'll do.

But Gon is already asleep, curled in a ball on the floor with his jacket over him like a blanket. Killua considers waking him up, thinks about Gon’s slight limp and their silent journey, and retires to his own corner of the tent. He curls protectively around his bleeding hands, his feet numbed beyond pain, waiting for sleep to finally take him away.

_> <)))v> <v(((><_

_ Killua feels the spell coming. It sends shivers down his spine before it ever makes contact, makes his hair stand on end and warning bells ring in his head, but he’s not fast enough to dodge. It catches him in the side, lifting him into the air. _

_It hurts. His side hurts like hell, but what really hurts is the fall. He lands hard on his shoulder, and his hip lands at just the right angle to send a shockwave through his body. His hand barely misses being crushed between his body and a rock. Black spots dance before his eyes._

_For a minute Killua’s angry, staring at the sky on his back with contempt. He’s so sick of being knocked out._

_The quiet crunch of dirt underfoot snaps him back to reality. He quickly closes his eyes, holds his breath, and lets his body go limp like he’s floating in the ocean._

_The guy’s footsteps are soft. Killua can barely hear it over his own heartbeat. So the guy’s a professional then, or someone who figures himself one. He’s overconfident if he’s coming to check on Killua without hitting him again to make sure he’s knocked out._

_It pisses Killua off having to lie here, feinting unconsciousness instead of taking him head on, like some kind of weak siren his father despises. The anger travels along his limbs like little ants and urges him forward, to get up and not be so weak. This guy really thinks he’s so pathetic as to be knocked out from that? Please! It was like a bad jellyfish sting._

_The guy leans over Killua. The fabric of his shirt hovers just over his agitated skin. There’s a chuckle above him, and then the shirt tickles his upper arm._

_It’s as if someone’s sprung a mousetrap. Killua moves so fast surprise doesn’t even register on the man’s face until Killua’s hand is already halfway into his chest._

_It’s a little difficult, what with his strength weakened thanks to his human body, but Killua’s claws and tough skin are meant to rip through flesh. His weak state does make the job messier than expected, and probably a bit more painful too. The smell is certainly worse, and he keeps his lips tightly closed to avoid even the slightest taste, but it’s nothing he can’t handle._

_Killua’s hand comes away slick. There’s no water to wash the blood away, and it coats his clothes and hair in sticky red._

_The guy slouches over like a rag doll as soon as Killua’s hand is free of his chest. Killua shoves him to the side roughly to avoid being crushed and sits up. He winces and rubs his side idly, checking for any lasting damage from the spell—_

_“Killua!”_

_Killua flinches, his blood going cold. Gon saw it all. He saw Killua kill, saw him act like—no, be a Zoldyck._

_He’s going to leave Killua alone in the middle of nowhere. He’s going to desert Killua. Killua’s going to be alone in the human world._

_Killua feels anger rise to fight back the panic. Why hadn’t Gon run away like a normal person?! Why did he have to see?! Why—_

_“You’re okay?”_

_…was he holding out a hand for a monster like him?_

_“Gon…?”_

_“Need help up?”_

_Killua knows he’s a sight to see covered in blood with dead body lying next to him. How could anyone willingly want to touch him? Give him support? How?_

_He looks at Gon, whose expression has not warped in the slightest. There is nothing new there, no feeling beyond what Killua usually sees directed at him, but the familiarity in the foreign surroundings has him reaching for the flimsy hope standing before him with a warm smile._

_Their hands make a wet, squishy noise when they meet. Gon does not flinch at the blood, and Killua is grateful. His brain is exhausted. He wants to go back to the dark pocket of space from before. He wants to stop thinking about the dead body beside him. He wants to keeping holding Gon’s hand._

_He wants, and wants, and wants in time to his heartbeat, and for the first time it feels like it’s okay to want._

_Gon releases Killua’s hand and ideally wipes the blood on his shorts as he looks back to the thinning chaos._

_“Let’s go,” he says._

_“Yeah,” Killua answers with a tiny, sincere smile that Gon doesn’t see. Warmth spreads throughout his chest, and he doesn’t even notice the pain in his feet as he follows Gon._

_> <)))T> <T(((><_

When he first wakes up that afternoon and Gon is still asleep, Killua doesn’t really know what to do with himself. It’s not like he knows where they are, and he can’t exactly walk too far away from the tent if he doesn’t want to get lost. Besides, his body is sore from walking yesterday. He could go through their supplies and take inventory, but Gon will probably want to do that when he wakes up. Might as well wait for him and do it together if that case. That leaves him with…not much else to do.

Killua stretches his legs out and readjusts into a more comfortable position. There’s no harm in relaxing for a bit, right?

He lies in place for a long time. At first he traces pictures in the dirt on his skin, but once he runs out of room he swipes them away and stares at the tent’s ceiling.

Eventually Killua’s eyes land on Gon. He watches his breathing, takes some comfort in it. He finds it strange to think that his own body does the same thing, that his nose is taking with air instead of his gills. He remembers trying to breathe that first day with his grandpa, remembers swallowing half the sea (which may top most embarrassing memory to date), and thinks of how he can use his lungs without thinking about it now, like an actual human.

Killua checks the palms of his hand. They’re still soft. Still human. Whatever Illumi did to him is wearing off.

_…We better get a move on. Who knows where Hisoka is._

Sighing, Killua slowly drags himself out of bed. He can feel his hair sticking up at odder angles than usual and tries to smooth it down with his hands, but his fingers catch in all the knots, making the cuts on his hands sting.

He stands up and stretches out his limbs. Thankfully the throb in his feet is back to its usual level. Instead of the ground feeling like a million and one daggers stabbing him all at once, it only feels like he’s walking on glass.

“Gon? Time to get up!” Killua yells. He grabs his lukewarm water bottle and heads out of the tent to refill it.

It’s insanely hot outside. Killua thinks he can feel his skin burning in the short time it takes to walk to the spring, and in the sunlight he can plainly see how red his skin already is. _I’m a lobster_ , he thinks humorlessly, filling his bottle as quickly as possible and running back into the tent for cover. He thinks his mind might be playing tricks on him, but he swears he’s redder than before.

Killua expects to hear Gon’s sleepy voice greeting him once he’s inside, but looks over to see his friend still asleep. He moves closer, kneeling down so he’s talking straight into his ear.

“Gon?” he whispers, setting his water aside. “Wake up.”

Killua waits a few minutes, but there’s no response.

“Gon?” he tries again, louder this time.

…

Nothing.

Killua does his best not to panic. _He’s just tired. Of course he be tired. We walked all night, and his body is still recovering_ , he reasons, but in the silence Gon’s breathing sounds weird. He can’t remember if it’s always sounded like that, if it’s become different from earlier.  _Sleep helps recovery...right? He’ll get better if I wait a little while._

When Gon’s breathing gets notably worse in the next hour, Killua is suddenly aware that he has no idea about how the human body works.

_Okay. It’s okay. What did I do when Alluka was sick? There has to be something similar…_

Alluka is ice cold when she’s sick. Kilua touches a hand to Gon’s forehead and finds he’s hotter than he’s ever been. Considering how bad Killua felt in that little metal box when he was hot, this can’t be good, right? He’s not one hundred percent sure about his logic, but he probably needs to cool Gon down. Right?

Killua rips off a piece of his shirt and soaks it with water from his bottle. It reeks of sweat. There’s a coating of dirt on it and a small blood stain in the corner, but it’s all he has.

He places it on Gon’s forehead.

Waits.

He takes Gon’s jacket off of him, folds it as best he can.

Waits.

The tent is made to keep out heat, but the sides burn hot with the absorbed heat from hours of the sun’s harsh light. It radiates off the sides so strongly that Killua has be at least a foot away to avoid feeling like he’s being cooked alive. Thankfully Gon fell asleep relatively close to the middle of the tent. Killua’s glad he doesn’t have to move his friend and possibly make him worse, but it would have given him something to do besides fidget uncomfortably.

Killua finds himself staring at Gon’s hand as time drags on. Gon never washed them last night, and even though the red has dulled considerably, the color still stands out sharply against his green shorts. Killua feels his hands twitch with the desire to wash them and shoves them into his pockets. He flinches as the rough material grates against the raw, chapped skin, and can’t help the annoyed noise that escapes him.

“That’s one thing I don’t miss. Human bodies have so many inconveniences compared to us. Annoying, huh?”

Killua stays silent.

“How are you doing?” Biscuit asks.

_…I’m sorry about yesterday._

“That bad?”

Killua picks at a loose thread in his pocket, watches a stray droplet run down Gon’s cheek.

Biscuit sighs. “Look. I know I may not seem like it all the time, but I do want to help you. It’s not easy up there. Are you okay up there?”

Killua carefully extracts his hand from his pocket and swipes the droplet away with the pad of his thumb. He feels the heat still radiating off Gon, and he can’t tell if he’s gotten worse.

_Do you know what’s wrong with Gon?_

“…There’s no shame in struggling, Killua—”

 _Do you know what’s wrong with_ Gon _?_

Killua can feel Biscuit’s annoyance in the sigh that she releases in response, but there’s some other emotion there. She’s not trying to suppress it from him, but she’s not calling attention to it, letting it purposely hover over him. It reminds him of his sister, how Alluka would always have a grudging edge of fondness in her voice no matter how much Killua annoyed her.

“It’s the heat. It isn’t good for the human body. Smart move trying to cool him down.” Biscuit pauses to let her compliment sink in, which only serves to make Killua stare awkwardly off into space. “On top of that,” she finally says, “his body is probably exhausted since he never healed properly. I’d say get your best option is to get him some place cooler, but moving him is impossible.”

It’s fine. I can carry him, Killua thinks, swaying dangerously as he stands.

“Sit down! That’s not the problem! ”

Killua weakly plops back down and scowls, swatting at the greasy white hair tickling his check. Then what is?!

“The sun! The heat! Lack of water, lack of food...do I really need to go on why it’s a problem for you to be carrying an injured human on your back and wandering off who knows where?”

“Then search for a town or something!” Killua yells, no longer able to contain his irritation in his thoughts. “You found this place. Why can’t you sense a town?” he asks accusingly.

“It’s not that simple,” Biscuit says curtly. “Just stay put.”

Killua scoffs. “Stay put”? There are kidnappers out there! Hisoka’s out there! Why the hell would he--

He freezes. Hisoka is gone without a trace, and he has no idea what his goals are or who he’s working with (which is no different from usual, but the stakes are much, much higher now). Biscuit just happens to know where they can find some kind of relief, a place where they’re basically sitting ducks.

“What fish pissed in your ocean?” Biscuit asks.

There are multiple ways Hisoka could have found them, but Biscuit is still a possibility. She doesn’t have to help Killua. She just has to make sure he doesn’t die, but how he lives in the mean time is not her concern. She could’ve easily struck a deal with Hisoka to gain a favor later.

Besides, Biscuit had practically salivated over the jewel Killua offered her for the spell. Off the top of his head he knows at least ten jewels in his father’s possession that shine even more brilliantly, ones he’d easily give up to convince a sea witch to get his son back. Maybe teach him a lesson while she’s at it.

“Hey?”

She can follow him into the desert. There’s no way he can take water with him and escape her...but she needs him alive. Salt water hurts his body, makes his throat burn and his thirst double. She wouldn’t leave him with no water, but that limits him only a single bottle for both himself and Gon. If she did occupy his bottle and tried to get him to go back and get more, he’d just go as far as he could.

Killua’s aware it’s beginning to sound more and more like a suicide, but it’s better than sitting in this tent and waiting for something to happen.

He gets up, unmindful of Biscuits questions, and moves to Gon’s side. He bends awkwardly to scoop him up, biting back a sound of pain as his hands slide roughly against the dirty fabric of Gon’s clothes.

“Killua, don’t do that! You’re going to hurt him worse! Killua!”

It pisses him off how hard it is to lift Gon. It hurts his back, it hurts his arms, it hurts his head...everything hurts and he’s so sick of it.

“I’m trying to help you!” Biscuit yells.

“Why?” he demands furiously, feeling his sharp claws react to his even sharper tone, piercing Gon. “What’s in it for you? I don’t have another jewel to pay you to help me come back! There’s no reason for you to help me!”

“Part of the deal is—”

“Don’t—don’t give me that!” Killua’s forced to lower Gon back down the measly distance he managed. His head is swimming. He doesn’t even have the strength to stand up. He watches as small red beads slowly grow on Gon’s bare arm from the shallow wounds his claw made, perfectly round until they get too big, trailing down his arm in thin streams and mingling with the water on his skin.

Killua works his jaw, getting a few false starts before finally demanding, “Why?”

“Because I remember what it’s like!” Biscuit yells. “It sucks and it’s easy to hurt yourself when you don’t even know what’s wrong with your body in the first place!” Biscuit takes a ragged breath, and he can picture her tail snapping furiously through the water, maybe her illusion wavering enough to show the tentacles. “I thought you’d come right back, but here you are, starving yourself! Killing yourself and barely noticing! I don’t want a kid’s blood on my hands, Killua!”

Biscuit is quiet for a long time. Killua fidgets. His eyes are downcast like a scolded child. Shame sits in his gut, but he never relaxes. He still strains his ears for strange footsteps, balancing on the balls of his feet to get up at a moment’s notice, arms tensed and ready to scoop Gon and run, knowing it’s useless but feeling bone-deep that he’d rather die in the desert than be captured.

(And he swears he can hearing his family whispering in the rustle of the tent. He hears them scolding him for not even considering she could be bought off, for just assuming trust could be found, to just go die in the desert and spare them the embarrassment of his capture—)

“Your sister’s a sweet girl,” Biscuit says finally. “Smart, too. She showed up only a few days after you left and even had the courage to try and attack me. Hell, she still shows up whenever she can to ask after you, hangs around here for hours ‘organizing’ all my stuff and playing with my ingredients.”

Killua finds himself grinning. He knows that tone well. He can’t even count on both hands all the times he’s used it himself, giving whatever ridiculous demand Alluka had just to see her smile. “You told her you’d look after me, huh?”

Biscuit huffs.

Killua starts chuckling, then giggling. Soon he’s outright laughing, clutching his stomach and fighting to suck enough air down, gasping. He feels like he’s floating, like little fish are leaving kisses along his buzzing skin. Alluka has a sea witch in the palm of her hand, and he’s a human. What next?

“Killua?”

“I’m…I’m okay,” he gasps, covering his laughter with his hand. “It’s…Alluka’s just so…” He snorts, picturing his little sister swimming furiously up to Biscuit, eyebrows drawn in a rage, nose scrunched up and little baby claws unsheathed.

( She deserves better than hm.)

He wipes a stray tear from his eye as his laughter finally dies down, feeling weightless. His head feels empty. No...hollow? He’s tired again. The edges of the tent are like an oven.

“Killua,” Biscuit says sharply, “listen carefully. Can you hear me?”

“Hm? Yeah, I—” His whole body goes rigid as the soft sound of footsteps faintly reaches his ears. The split second feeling of betrayal, acid in his already burning throat, only fuels the rage that follows. You!

“Killua—”

_Shut up!_

Blessedly, Biscuit goes silent.

Killua hovers protectively over Gon, head swimming, torn between what to do, if he can escape with Gon, without him (the tent is whispering)— no, he won’t leave Gon! He sways on his feet, hands moving back and forth, moving unsteadily from under Gon’s back, to the floor, back under, grabbing his arm, and back. The steps get closer and closer and he grows more frantic until throws himself over Gon, shielding him with his body and pulling his lips back in a growl.

The tent opens.

“Killua?”

Leorio slowly pokes his head in and recoils sharply at the sight of the feral boy, a muffled thud coming when the man most likely falls on his butt. There’s shuffling outside, mutterings, Leorio’s attempt at a whisper.

Killua still doesn’t relax his position above Gon, muscles shaking. He wavers, one arm collapsing under his weight. Gritting his teeth, he pushes himself back up, snarl falling into a grimace.

“Killua? Answer me.” Leorio slowly reappears in the entrance. He peeks into the tent and assesses them. His face betrays none of his thoughts for once, the slightly concerned arch of his eyebrows never wavering. “Some Biscuit person told me you were here?”

Leorio’s expression changes for a brief second when Killua shields Gon even more,  realizing his mistake, but he quickly resumes his concerned expression.

“Look, I doubt you guys’ve had a lot of food, and Gon doesn’t look in good shape. I can help you, okay?” Killua doesn’t answer. “...Just let us get you back to town. You guys can recover, and then I don’t care what you do. Slash my face, run away, whatever. Just please come with us right now so I can help you.”

“Who’s out there with you?” Killua asks. He makes his voice low and threatening, arches his back a little as he scowls, trying to imitate his father but only feeling like a blowfish, ridiculously puffed up and weak.

Leorio’s face stays the same, but he takes a nervous step back. Killua leans back as well, suddenly scared to push anymore. He doesn’t want to see fear bloom in the man’s eyes.

(He listens to Gon breathing beneath him and is glad he’s not awake to see.)

“Guys,” Leorio says, never taking his eyes from Killua, “could you came introduce yourselves?” His voice only slightly trembles.

Two people appear in the tent’s opening beside the doctor.

The first is about as tall as Leorio. He wears sunglasses and a grin that makes Killua uncomfortable. He’s definitely a  fighter. If his physic didn’t give it away--his shoulders are wide and sharp, and his arms are like tree trunks-- the way he doesn’t even react to a scowling monster would. There’s also an impatience to his grin that Killua dislikes. It makes him think of his father when he’s too busy to bother with him or Alluka.

The other is pretty short. He’s a bit overweight and…can people naturally have eyebrows that thick? He looks the most nervous, big eyes even bigger in fear, but when he sees Killua staring, a large, shaky smile blooms on his wide face

“My eyebrows are real,” he says, laughing awkwardly as his whole face turns bright red. It suits him.

“These are the only other people here,” Leorio says. “The people who had you are long gone. Half of them were captured, and the other half are nowhere near here. We checked.” He takes a small step in, takes another when Killua doesn't move. “Can I come in, Killua? I’m only gonna take him to the car and check his injuries. Nothing else. You can watch as long as you drink something, okay?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Killua stands and lets Leorio take Gon.

“Thank you, Killua.”

“Mm.”

"Let's go."


End file.
